


Ordinary Days

by gonta, starrynova



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa Zero, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Minor Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9342428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonta/pseuds/gonta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynova/pseuds/starrynova
Summary: This is the story of a particularly interesting class that attended Hope's Peak.(NDRV3 Hope's Peak au! Written collaboratively)





	1. High School is the Best Days of your Life

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This is a project that we've had in the works for a while. It's just a silly little au where the drv3 cast goes to Hope's Peak. We hope you enjoy!  
> There are implied spoilers at times, but they're not really spoilery unless you know the context.  
> That's all! We appreciate your comments, reactions, and feedback!

Kaede Akamatsu was absolutely radiating with pride the day she was accepted to Hope’s Peak Academy. After all, she had worked all her life at her piano playing for it. It was only natural that she would be able to go. And from the moment her parents sat her down to tell her about her newfound studenthood, she could tell from the joy in their eyes that she had made the right choice by accepting the invitation. So it was that on one sunny April morning, she hugged her family goodbye and boarded the train that would take her to her new academic life.

She, like many others, had always dreamed of attending Hope’s Peak. What could be better than mingling with other teenagers at the top of their fields? People spent their entire lives trying to get themselves and their progeny into the school, and now she was going for herself.

Initially, she was worried that she wasn't going to get in. But when her invitation came in at the last second, she had let out a sigh of relief that could be heard all over Japan. She had heard the stories about second considerations, but she never thought she would get one herself. As she boarded the train, she finally thought all her work would finally be all worth it. She had heard of some of the other students who had gotten accepted: a heir to a great power, a boy who claimed to talk to animals, a sports star who was said to hit like no other, a girl who was a fighting master all over the country - and so many more. She felt nervous, she felt excited, she felt happy.

She felt hopeful.

Across the country (and even in other parts of the world), many other teenagers were taking the same path. In the countryside, a boy walked out of the forest with textbooks and entrance letter in hand. A girl from an island far away pressed her face against the window of a plane, surveying the ocean below. A boy who thought he had no future finally saw a light of hope at the end of the path. People scrambled to finish their last projects before going to school, and still others bid their loved ones goodbye. All roads led to Hope’s Peak, it seemed.

It was looking to be the start of a promising school year for the fortunate few who were attending.

 

The word that first came to Kaede’s mind when trying to describe the Hope’s Peak campus was _big_. Everything, from the quad to the school buildings that towered above her, looked as though it could hold thousands upon thousands of students. It seemed a little excessive for such a selective school, but it certainly gave off the intimidating air that was so often associated with its students. If she were at the top of one of those buildings, she thought, the people down below would look like nothing more than ants. But for now, she herself was one of the ants.

She tried finding her way on campus, but given the size, it was difficult to say the least. She considered going to one of the information booths, but decided that she wasn't going to find what she needed there, although she did take a map that someone wordlessly offered her. The area crawled with students of all shapes and sizes - some reuniting with each other after the long break, others looking as nervous as she felt. Being on campus was overwhelming, especially on the first day of the new school year. Even with the map on hand, she was hopelessly lost.

That wasn't exactly a reassuring start to the semester.

Trying not to take in the crowds around her too quickly, she rummaged through her bag and pulled out the course schedule that had come along with her invitation. She scanned it, but it might as well have been written in Russian. Whatever system Hope’s Peak used to organize its innumerable classrooms was anything but straightforward. Kaede glanced around, trying to see if there were any teachers nearby who could help her sort things out, but it was hard to tell who was who around here.

She instead decided to approach a small group standing nearby, clustered near a bench and some bushes. There were five in particular: a girl wearing a raincoat was chattering with a gargantuan hulk of a boy with round glasses and hair that resembled overgrown kudzu. Another boy who looked as though he used too much hair gel stood close to them, occasionally interjecting, as a stern-looking girl with her hair covering one eye watched. Off to the side stood a girl with pigtails that nearly reached her ankles, looking as though she was trying not to pay attention to the others’ banter.

Kaede decided to put her anxiety behind her. “Um…”

The small group stopped their banter, instantly getting quiet and looking at Kaede. The raincoat girl looked at her with curiosity, the two other girls both had blank expressions on their faces, the boy with the glasses gave off waves of nervousness to rival Kaede’s and the other boy seemed to have gotten ready to go on the defensive. Although that all seemed to disappear when they had gotten a better look at Kaede, as both the boys appeared to give sighs of relief. “I-I was just wondering if any of you know where room 1R is…”

The girl in the raincoat was practically emanating rays of sunshine after that. “That's Angie’s homeroom!!! This means you're Angie’s classmate! That means you're our classmate!”

The bespectacled boy nodded, smiling out of pure delight. “You're Gonta’s classmate too, then!”

Although she was glad that people were talking to her, Kaede was a little confused. “Angie and Gonta…?”

“That's them. Referring to oneself in the third person… it seems to be in vogue lately,” the stern-looking girl smiled gently, and gave a quick curtsy. “Kirumi Toujou, at your service,”

“My service?” She was a little caught off guard by the seriousness of Toujou’s introduction, at least compared to her peers. “Well, I'm not that-”

“Ohh man, are we doing cool introductions now? Because I've been working on mine since I started studying to go here!” The boy with the spiky hair piped up, prompting everyone to look over at him expectantly. With a confident grin, he clenched his fist and made a pose that looked straight out of an anime. “Famous in space, it’s Kaito Momota! The man who roared to the universe, who crying children yearn for!” He said all this with such seriousness that Kaede had to giggle a little, but it seemed as though no one else really knew how to react.

The pigtailed girl took that moment to speak up. “Does that just mean you're not famous on Earth? You could have just said that.”

“That's not what I meant and you know it!” Momota snapped.

Angie (Kaede wouldn't find out her or Gonta’s surnames until they got to class later) pressed her hands to her cheeks, looking at Kaede. “That’s Maki! She’s acting like she doesn't care about anything, but she does!”

Maki scowled. “Maki Harukawa. You've only known me for a few minutes, how would you know?”

“Nyahaha, because kami-sama told me!” She stated proudly. Gonta simply stared at her in confusion, as Kaede tried to figure out exactly what she meant by that. She thought that she might elaborate, but she didn't.

She decided to voice a question that had been nagging at her ever since she met the motley crew. “So, are you all in the same class, then?”

There was a murmur of agreement. “Yes, it would seem so. All of our schedules said 1R… though Gonta has trouble reading schedules, sometimes,” Gonta took off his glasses and nervously polished them with his tie.

“You got that right! All six of us!” Momota grinned.

“Seven, actually,”

The claim was spoken by a baritone so deep that it made Kaede’s skin crawl. Though she glanced around, she couldn't tell where it was coming from. Most of the other students on the quad didn't seem to be acknowledging their group, after all. She was about to ask the others if any of them could throw their voice (people could do that, right?), when she felt a tug on the back of her blazer. The voice sighed in poorly-hidden exasperation. “...Down here,” it said. She and the others turned around to see someone whose features could only be described as “distinct”. Huge, fishy eyes, cheeks rosy with a natural blush… she was tempted to ask if he was looking for the Hope’s Peak elementary school, but withheld the question. He wore a beanie with horns and some sort of strange sigil on it, and he lifted the front edge up in greeting as he addressed the group. “I heard you talking. I think I'm in your class. Name’s Hoshi.”

Kaede watched as he extended his hand, and Momota went to take it. As soon as their fingers met, he yelped. “Jesus Christ, man! You got an iron grip or something?”

Hoshi sheepishly let go. “Mhm, I suppose so. What are you doing, anyway?”

Toujou raised an eyebrow. “Nothing in particular. But at this point, it seems as though we're waiting for the rest of our class.” Kaede wasn't sure how she'd come to the conclusion, but it seemed as though everyone agreed.

They really wouldn't have to wait long for more people to show up, as they heard shouting coming from a direction near them. Kaede could just barely make out the phrase “Come on, Yumeno-chan, we’re gonna be late!” A moment later, a girl dashed out of the crowd and slammed directly into Gonta’s back. He appeared unfazed, though the girl (and the girl she was dragging with her, Kaede noticed) flopped onto the ground. She had arranged her hair into helix-shaped pigtails, and was wearing a ribbon. The other girl was an exceptionally drowsy redhead who really didn't seem to mind the fact that she was now on the pavement.

Gonta gasped, and extended a hand to the first girl. “Oh, Gonta’s so sorry! Please, let me help!”

An unpleasant expression crossed the girl’s face, and she shot up quicker than anyone in the group would have thought. Gonta backed off very quickly, muttering apologies under his breath.

The other girl rubbed her eyes. “Ehh.. sorry, Chabashira-san. I fell asleep on the bus,”

“You can call Tenko ‘Tenko’!” the first girl barked. “And don't worry, Yumeno-chan! If we had missed our stop, Tenko would have let you piggyback her as she ran here!” She clapped a hand to her chest, a determined fire in her eyes. Yumeno blushed but said nothing in response.

“Another one who uses third-person…?” Kaede found herself mumbling. Toujou glanced at her briefly, but did not reply. Harukawa rolled her eyes. Hoping that no one had heard her talking to herself, she attempted to make conversation. “Nice to meet you, Chabashira-san, Yumeno-san. Are you excited to be going to Hope’s Peak?”

Yumeno merely shrugged, but Chabashira’s eyes sparkled with light. “Of course! It's always been Tenko’s dream… well, it's second place in terms of Tenko’s dreams. Tenko’s first place dream is to win the Aikido World Championships! Also, a lot of cool people who Tenko admires go here… like her!”

She pointed in a certain direction, and everyone turned to look where he was indicating. A girl in traditional dress and pigtails the size of her head was walking past.

Angie cocked her head curiously. “A kimono? Why isn't she in uni- oh, right. Angie forgot!”

Chabashira clenched her hands, and shouted in her direction. “AH, YOU’RE HIYOKO SAIONJI! TENKO IS A HUGE FAN!”

“DON’T EVEN LOOK AT ME, YOU DUMB WHORES! I DON’T WANT YOUR STUPIDITY TO RUB OFF ON ME,” the girl snapped back, frightening everyone in the vicinity.

Chabashira clasped her hands together. “She's so cool!” she gasped, as everyone just looked on in disbelief. Hoshi massaged his temples, but said nothing.

Yumeno was about to open her mouth and say something, but was interrupted by another approaching group. This one consisted of three people: a boy with purple highlights and a checkered bandanna was walking between a voluptuous girl and an uncomfortable-looking boy with stiff white hair. The three were deep in conversation, though the white-haired boy spent more time looking off to the side and sweating nervously than actually contributing.

“So you've never invented any sort of weird sex toys?” The middle boy was asking the girl.

She scoffed and adjusted her goggles. “No, but don't be stupid! Someone as talented and as awesome as me would definitely be able to do that. I just don't have time, I'm too busy with my ‘while sleeping’ line.”

“Ah, I get it,” he said, and turned to the other boy. “Kiibo-kun, what do you think? Would you ever build a robot with a dick?”

He blushed profusely. “Wh-why would I even do that?! And that's not even my name, Ouma-san…”

“Well, whatever! Oh, look, people,” they strolled over to the big group, joining their mass. The boy with the scarf had a devious grin on his face as he introduced himself. “Hi, I'm Kokichi. Koichi Ouma! I'm sure you've all heard of me, right?”

Everyone glanced over at one another, trying to see if anyone else had. “No,” was all that Harukawa said in response. Ouma puffed his cheeks out and crossed his arms rather childishly.

The goggles girl took the opportunity to speak up. “Oi, you all! I’m Miu Iruma-sama. You might never meet anyone as fuckin’ important as me in your whole life, so remember this!”

“Hey, I was gonna say that! No fair!” Ouma quit pouting for a second to complain.

“Well, you should have said it, you tiny-chested little twink!”

“I'm not a twink!”

The white-haired boy shut his eyes for a second and shook his head. “...Anyway. I'm Tetsuya Iidabashi, and I'm a roboticist. Nice to meet you!”

“Didn't Ouma-kun say that your name was Kiibo?” Momota wondered.

Iidabashi jumped, and began to wildly gesture with his hands. “That's not my name! It's just a nickname, that's all.”

“Angie thinks that's a cute nickname!” Angie proclaimed. Gonta nodded in agreement, but it only made Kiibo blush more.

Yumeno cleared her throat, having been interrupted by the trio’s arrival before. “Anyway… I think we gotta go to the induction ceremony soon, don't we? I heard about that somewhere… but I dunno,”

Toujou nodded in agreement. “Yes, I nearly forgot. How foolish of me. We should start making our way over, then,”

“Maybe the other people in our class will be there!” Momota proposed, beaming.

Gonta put a finger to his chin, deep in thought. “But… where is it?”

Everyone stood around for a second, not really sure how to answer that. But with her musician’s hearing, Kaede heard two people approaching their general direction. She decided to ask them, instead of going through the effort to seek out a teacher or aide.

“Excuse me!” She shouted at the two, who stopped walking to regard the group curiously. They were a girl and a boy: the girl had a sleepy face to rival Yumeno’s, and had a hair clip loosely pinned to one of her bangs. The boy had hair that resembled mashed potatoes closer than it did hair, and dull green eyes. “Do you know where the induction ceremony is going to be?”

“Oh…” the girl rubbed her eyes drowsily, but made eye contact with her. “It's in the main building auditorium. It's starting in maybe… fifteen minutes? Is that right, Komaeda-san?”

The boy, who Kaede assumed was Komaeda, didn't respond. He had fixed his gaze on Kaede’s group, and had an expression on his face that could only be described as a contemptuous leer. She looked behind her at her classmates for a moment, and found that most of them were shifting uncomfortably in response to this boy’s staring.

What was his deal?

“Komaeda-san… we gotta go,” said the girl, pulling him along by the sleeve of his hoodie jacket. Kaede and the group could only watch as the two vanished into the distance.

“Man, that was weird. Anyway, let’s go!” Ouma barked, and everyone complied. Despite the fact that they had only just met, it seemed as though they understood each other.

 

They stood in front of the main building, which was easily the most gargantuan building on campus. Yumeno spoke first. "So uh... this is the place, right?"  
  
Toujou nodded, "Seems so, after all, why else would everyone be gathering here out of all places, even reserve course students," Everyone went silent at that.

Momota slammed his fists together. "Come on, let's get in so we can get decent spots!" then rushed in leaving everyone else behind. Everyone started walking in, before Hoshi stopped in his tracks as if he had just realized something.  
  
Wordlessly, he tapped the shoulders of Angie and Ouma, who were right in front of him. They both turned around and gave him a puzzled look. Hoshi glanced behind them, muttered something (Kaede could only pick out a "damn" from what he said) and stared back at the other two. He pointed to his neck and shoulder.  
  
While Angie didn't seemed to get it, Ouma did. "Uh... Oh! Thanks for that... I almost forgot." The purple-haired boy stated, untying his scarf and hiding it underneath his shirt. Hoshi did the same thing with his hat. Kaede couldn't help but stare at his hair: it was closely cropped, and colored a rusty red that was muted compared to Yumeno’s. The two boys looked at Angie, who seemed to get the idea herself and silently took off her raincoat.  
  
She got stuck after that, realizing she couldn't hide it as easily. This is where Kaede decided to step in. "Ah, if you want to, you can hide it in my backpack,” She turned around to show it. The other girl nodded.

“Thank you, Kaede!!” She folded her raincoat and put it in. They were going to continue going, before Kaede got her own shoulder tapped.

It was Yumeno, her witch’s hat in her hands. “Hey, uh, you don't have to... but do you mind if I hide this in your backpack, too?” Kaede nodded and gave her a bright smile. “Thanks,” she muttered.

As the group walked in the building, they were surrounded by other students who were keeping their distance. They could hear the other students chattering and gossiping around them.

Angie herself seemed to be in good spirits, at least until she seemed to have overheard some conversation from other students in the hall. “Did you hear? In one of the new classes, there's a real princess! She transferred in from some foreign country!” After that, her step seemed to have less bounce, and Kaede could have sworn Angie’s smile fell for a split second. But it was quickly back to normal, and she had to wonder if she was just seeing strange things.

They walked on for a while without encountering any particular issue - that is, except for one strange occurrence. Hope’s Peak security guards were stationed throughout the building. At one point, a guard with green hair and a hard-angled face (who looked vaguely familiar, Kaede noted) stopped their group. As everyone looked on in confusion, he grabbed Hoshi by the lapels and lifted him up with one heavily muscled arm until they were eye level.

“Now listen here, you little punk,” he growled, his red eyes meeting the student’s black ones. “I've heard about you and your...record, don't think that I don't have my eye on you. That clear?”

Hoshi’s feet dangled uselessly, and his lip curled in an expression of disgust. “Sakakura, right?” He drawled. “Hmph. Hope’s Peak has accepted delinquents into its main course in the past. I don't believe it's me that you should be watching out for.” For someone who was being held by his shirt collar three feet off the ground, he sounded exceptionally calm. The guard - Sakakura - grumbled, then dropped him back onto the ground with a _thud_.

Everyone else in the group stared, and Kiibo coughed uncomfortably, but Hoshi gave them a look that told them not to talk about what had just happened.

They moved on.

 

The group made their way through the halls of the building until they reached the auditorium. It was even bigger than some of the stadiums that Kaede had had piano competitions in in the past. It was, at least, befitting of the scale of the rest of the building. Its decor was so classy that Kaede reckoned that the seats probably even reclined.

It was easy to find where the rest of her class was supposed to sit, as there were only four people who had situated themselves there. She assumed that these were the people who had gone on ahead without encountering their group.

They were a pretty quiet-looking bunch, for the most part - an anxious-looking boy and a boy with green hair were sitting a few seats away with each other, the former shifting uncomfortably in his seat as if he were nervous. The other two were a serpentine man wearing a face mask (which probably violated dress code rules) who was reading an impossibly thick book, and plainfaced girl with glasses who was prattling on about something. The boy never looked up from his book, but would occasionally respond to her spiels with an offhanded “I see,” or a “That's interesting”.

“...They made a manga based off of the book, too. I thought the anime version was better, but they were all pretty good in my opinion. I went to a panel where the voice actors talked once, and-” Wanting to introduce herself to the two, Kaede cleared her throat. The plain girl pretended not to hear her, but the boy snapped the book shut and looked up.

“...Yes?” He asked, his voice softer than she was expecting from someone like him.

Kaede shifted nervously. “Hey, do you mind getting up? I kind of wanna sit over there. I think the two of you are in my class, though. I'm Kaede Akamatsu, it's nice to meet you,”

The masked boy nodded, his expression unreadable. “Korekiyo Shinguuji. It's a pleasure, Akamatsu-san,”

The other girl was still rambling, and it was clear that she was pointedly avoiding talking to Kaede. Shinguuji gave her shoulder a firm squeeze, and she jumped. “...Okay, _now_ I’m done. What’s going on?” She asked, fixing her wide blue eyes on the other girl. “Oh, I must have gotten distracted. I’m Tsumugi Shirogane! I hope we can be friends in the future, Akamatsu-chan,”

“I hope so, too!” Kaede nodded, proceeding to make her way past the two. The rest of her classmates were already filling into the area, so she made her way down the aisle. She didn’t talk to the green-haired boy, but she heard him introducing himself to their classmates as “Rantarou Amami”, and refusing to state much else about himself every single time. The seat at the end of the aisle was already occupied by the nervous-looking boy, so she took a seat next to him. He glanced over at her, his eyes rimmed with long black lashes that made him look particularly androgynous. He resembled a scared doe to Kaede more than anything else.

It became clear that he was too nervous to initiate conversation, so she decided to take the fall. “Hello!” She said, turning to him with a warm smile. “I’m Kaede Akamatsu. We’re classmates.”

He blushed, and hesitantly pulled on the elbow of his blazer. “...Shuichi Saihara,” was all he said in response. So he was as shy as she expected, Kaede thought. He did look like kind of a softie.

She decided to carry on the conversation herself. “Honestly, it's hard to believe we're here, isn't it? Hope’s Peak always seemed like this weird, unattainable place to me. Like an urban legend or something,” she mused. Saihara raised an eyebrow.

“...I can understand that, I guess. I remember hearing somewhere that Hope’s Peak is even more selective than Stanford over in America, or something. I mean…” he pressed his fingers together nervously. “I think I read that,”

Kaede smiled - admittedly, she found his shyness kind of cute. “Oh, yeah! I remember watching induction ceremonies on TV in the past. I'm pretty sure the headmaster always gives a speech… what was his name again? Jin Kirigiri?”

Saihara nodded, though Kaede swore his expression turned melancholy for a split second. “Yeah… a Kirigiri…” he mumbled, dropping his gaze as if his lap was a particularly interesting place at that moment.

Before she could say anything else, though, the lights dimmed. “Oh!” She gasped, “I think it's starting!”

 

The speakers all around them (Iruma, who was sitting next directly to Kaede, whispered something about how she could build better ones if given the time before being elbowed by Toujou) suddenly blared to life. Spotlights were shining in the front of the auditorium, highlighting a man dressed in a suit, who overall looked very businesslike. There were other people around him - Sakakura (that security guard from earlier), a blonde man wearing a fedora, and a handful of others. But it was clear that the man in the middle, who Kaede assumed was Jin Kirigiri, was supposed to be the one that everyone was meant to be paying attention to. He spoke into the microphone attached to the podium in front of him.

“Welcome, students of Hope’s Peak Academy,” he began, “To both those new, and those returning. I believe that all those who are sitting here will bring a great hope for all of humanity. That your talents, from the sciences,” Out of the corner of her eye, Kaede saw Iruma bite her thumb. What she didn't see a few seats over was Gonta clenching his fist and Kiibo’s eyebrows twitching. “to the sports,” Hoshi was gritting his teeth, Tenko was pulling stray strands of her hair. "to the arts," Angie's smile fell for a couple of seconds, “to the talents of entertainment," Kaede felt her own face grimace for a second, and Yumeno was pouting, “to talents that before this year I could have not dreamed of. There is so much potential within all of you, potential as both people, and potential as the gifted. To those coming into their first year, I would like to welcome you, and I wish the best of your next three years. To those in their second year, I hope you keep up your good work that I'm sure you've been doing this far. To those who are starting their third year, I would like to wish you best of luck for whatever the future way hold for you. Founded seventy-seven years ago, Hope's Peak was meant to be an inspirational and welcoming environment for the talented, that was Izuru Kamakura, our founder, was thinking as he laid the ground where we all stand today. I’m sure many of your here have heard of our many graduates,” The entire speech dragged on from there. Iruma started to fall asleep and almost yelped when Toujou pinched her.

Kaede found herself zoning out a few times during the speech, particularly towards the end. Saihara seemed to notice, since he lightly tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped. He blushed rather sheepishly. “...Sorry. It's almost over, though,” Saihara mumbled, turning his head the other way to avoid making eye contact.

He was right about the speech being almost over, though. “And, as always, strive towards the peak of hope,” Jin Kirigiri finished, a gentle but firm smile on his face.

Kaede heard someone sitting a few rows front of her group groan, “He says that _every year_.” Everyone around her was applauding, so she assumed she was to do the same. After that, Kirigiri briefly spoke about how students should go to their homerooms, and about other school stuff - nothing too special after that. Pretty much like every other high school orientation speech Kaede’s ever heard. The lights slowly came back on, prompting her and practically everyone around her to stand up. She was barely out of the row before that security guard, Sakakura (seriously, where had she seen him before?) showed up again.

“Alright, you heard him, you guys have already overstayed your welcome.” He said. A few of Kaede’s classmates were starting to get annoyed at his treatment towards them. For some, annoyed might have been an understatement. No one bothered with a retort, though.

Except for Momota, that is. “Hey! Just because we’re not-” He was immediately cut off by Amami, who clasped his hand on Momota’s shoulder.  
“Ah, I’m sorry for my classmate’s behavior. I promise you that we’re leaving right now, we’re just waiting for everyone to gather their things.” He gave a calm smile to the security guard, who grumbled something before heading off - though he didn’t leave without giving everyone a piercing glare that seemed as though he was looking right into their souls. When Sakakura was out of sight, Amami let out a breath Kaede didn’t even notice that he was holding. “Momota-san, right? I don’t really know what you were thinking… but kids like us can’t just… talk to people of his status like that, y’know.”

Momota didn’t look at Amami in the eye, “Yeah… I know. It’s just…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence, but it seemed as though everyone knew what he meant. At least Kaede did. No one really needed knew how to comfort the boy, as they were all in the same situation themselves. There was an air of uncertainty about the group regarding what to do next, and the uneasiness could be plainly seen on everyone’s face (other than Shinguuji’s, but who knew what kind of emotion he held underneath that mask).

What seemed to be an eternity, Kaede spoke up, “Uh. I think… I think we should go to class, shouldn’t we…? I mean… I could only imagine the reaction our homeroom teacher would give if their entire class came late…” Everyone else muttered in agreement at that.

  
Wordlessly, they all left the main course building and went to the building in the east quarter of Hope’s Peak to start their lives as reserve course students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a pastebin with info on the general au: http://pastebin.com/i1B8aERB
> 
> sou (gonta) notes:  
> BITCH YOU THOUGHT!!!!! BITCH YOU THOUGHT!!!!  
> Hold onto your ass, because we're in for a wild ride. NO INCOMPLETE FICS WE COMPLETE THIS WHOLE GODDAMN THING LIKE MEN  
> I'm always a slut for comments. Please leave some comments. blease
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes:  
> Technically this is still a Hope’s Peak au and we never mentioned they were main course students so you can’t sue us for false advertisement
> 
> :^)


	2. Salt Squad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back 2 hell!  
> admittedly this chapter isn't nearly as twisty and intriguing as the last one but it was still fun to write. We hope you enjoy!  
> everyone just complains tbh

Kaede wasn’t really sure she was expecting, being a reserve course student. Everyday seemed to repeat itself, even though she had been attending for only a few weeks. The work was as strenuous as one would expect from a school like Hope’s Peak, and she often found herself struggling, but managed to pull off pretty decent grades. However, she would often stare out the window and notice main course students loitering about. It confused her. Hope’s Peak was such a prestigious school, why did it not put its talented students under a strict curriculum like its untalented ones?

One thing she couldn’t complain about, though, was her classmates. They all seemed to be pretty good people at heart. Sure there were some... rather strange people in her class, but Kaede could tell there wasn’t really anyone with malicious intent in their group. If anything, the entire group had bonded with each other rather quickly. Though no one ever vocalized it, she could see it in the little things; when Shirogane offered to mend a tear in Yumeno’s hat, when Toujou silently picked up after everyone else’s messes, when Iruma and Kiibo tinkered with the shoddy overhead projector in order to make it work better for everyone. It seemed as though everyone was in a sort of mutual understanding with one another, though she couldn’t imagine what it was that made them all click so well. She found that even people like Ouma, who teased anyone when given the chance, really didn’t mean any actual harm (there was one time where he went too far with Iruma, but it was resolved pretty quickly).

But though her class was kind, the outside world was not. Walking through the halls, congested with people, she felt eyes on her. If they had belonged to the main course, it would have made sense - but these eyes belonged to reserve course students from other classes. It didn’t make any sense to her: why her, anyway? Admittedly, it wasn’t like she really talked much to people from other classes. The only interactions she’d had with them had been in her music electives, and during those she tended to be too busy to speak to others. But it wasn’t just her they looked at funny. There was one particularly strange instance where Gokuhara had accidentally bumped into someone in the cafeteria, sending their tray flying. Kaede observed as he frantically apologized to them - he had informed the class of his crusade to become a gentleman once they were supposed to do formal introductions - and attempted to pick up any of the contents of the tray that were still salvageable. 

But instead of thanking him, the other student simply looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, muttered something, and quickly went on their way. Gokuhara was left staring after them in confusion. And this was only one incident of many. Gokuhara wasn’t the only person to experience this kind of treatment. One time, Ouma spoke to a group of students, who all went dead silent and simply… walked away from him. Ouma looked  _ hurt _ at that, but he seemed to not want anyone to know how he felt about it, so he feigned ignorance when someone tried to bring it up later. There were more, but they had become so common that Kaede had a hard time remembering specific ones. 

It was bizarre, though. She had heard that reserve course students find solidarity in their normality. But this was just weird. After all, her class was a reserve course class, too! What was the deal? 

The main course didn’t make it any better - if anything, they made it worse. She didn’t know about anyone else’s encounters with them but all of Kaede’s were… tense. Most of them ignored her, and honestly? She didn’t mind those people, she was glad they only minded their own business. Others were more… vocal of their disdain towards her, and the rest of her classmates. She heard the rumors when she had to pass the main course building. Sometimes they weren’t about her, but she could guess about who they were, she just hoped no one else had to hear them. They were… pretty nasty, most of the time.

But it was an unavoidable part of Hope’s Peak life, so she decided to grin and bear it for the most part. It was only high school, after these three years, she wouldn’t have to deal with them. At the same time, she had three years to bond with her classmates, it was going to be simultaneously the longest and shortest three years of her life.

 

Later, as she would find out, she was not the only one who was having problems with the main course. If anything, she was far from it - and strange looks were the least of her worries. 

They were having a free period at one point, which was a fairly rare occurrence in the reserve course. Everyone was hanging around in the classroom where they normally started the day. Apparently, their teacher had been called to a meeting, so they were unsupervised.    
All seemed fine at first. It was relatively quiet, except for the buzz of conversation that abounded among the group. Kaede distinctly remembered hearing Chabashira passionately describe the damage that aikido did to her clothes, as Shirogane took notes and swore that she would try to make her an outfit that was resistant to that kind of stress. It made her smile, really. 

But it was Amami, being perceptive as always, who noticed the problem first. He stood up, his eyes taking in the rest of the class as they puzzledly glanced over at him. “I don’t know if any of you noticed,” he began, “But we’re short a few people,” 

“What do you mean?” asked Harukawa, running her fingers through one of her pigtails. Amami smiled that strange smile of his, that never indicated whether what he was about to say was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Yonaga-san, Yumeno-san, and Gokuhara-san… they’re not here, are they?” Everyone looked around the room in response to the claim - and it was true, the three were strangely absent. An air of unease began to set in, permeating the casual atmosphere. 

Momota scoffed, trying to hide his clearly evident worry. “Maybe they just skipped class, or somethin’? That’d make sense, right?” 

“Momoron, you dumbass!” Iruma sneered at him, her feet resting on a desk with blatant disregard for how her shoes were scuffing it. “Gonta’s the biggest fuckin’ nerd of them all, he would never skip. If he had an ultimatum where he needed to skip class or die, he’d still fuckin’ choose die!” She smirked, seemingly pleased with her answer. “God, what an absolute fuckin’ square!”

Kiibo looked up from a paper he had been working on. “Iruma-san, I’ve never seen you skip class, either. Are you sure you’re the correct person to talk about this?”

“D-don’t yell at me like that!” she squeaked, suddenly cowering. Ouma sniggered, and Kiibo merely gave her a withering look before returning to his work. 

“Saihara-chan, do you think that they died?” pondered Ouma, turning to face him. Saihara was sitting in the back of the room, like he normally did in class. “I mean, you’re from a family of detectives or something, right? So you can probably sense death!”

He shifted uncomfortably, trying not to meet Ouma’s eager gaze. “That’s not… how being a detective works, Ouma-san.”

“Mhm, who knows what might have happened to them? I hope they’re okay… but in this world, who knows who might kill who,” Shirogane put a finger to her chin pensively. Kaede was about to ask if the last part was another one of her esoteric references when the door burst open with more force than she thought could be applied to it without it breaking. 

Standing in the doorway, looking as though they had just been through a war, were the three missing students. Yumeno merely had a pouty look on her face, but it seemed as though Yonaga had been crying. Her eyes were big and wet-looking, and she didn’t seem to know who in the class she should make eye contact with at the moment. The worst for wear, though, was Gokuhara. His hair was even more bedraggled than it usually was, and there were small tears in his standard-issue blazer. He was carrying Yonaga under one arm, and looked like he was about to pass out. 

“Sorry that… Gonta and everyone else are late,” he murmured dazedly, resting the arm that wasn’t supporting Yonaga on an unoccupied desk. 

For a moment, the room was so silent that you could hear the blood flowing through everyone’s ears. Then it erupted into shouting as people rushed over to the three new arrivals. Kaede even found herself running towards them. “Oh, g-god…” she heard herself muttering, “What happened to you? Are you hurt?!” 

Yonaga sniffled. “Angie’s pride is wounded… but I’m okay!” She snapped back to being cheerful, though her eyes were still watery. “With a few sacrifices, kami-sama should restore Angie back to normal, anyway!” Kiibo looked as though he wanted to ask her what she meant by sacrifices, but it seemed as though he decided against it at the last minute. 

Shinguuji glanced up from his book, speaking for the first time. “Were you perhaps attacked, Gonta-kun? It would appear as though you've been through a struggle,” Though his facial expression and tone of voice remained unchanged, he did have an air of concern around him. 

Gokuhara shivered, a nervous but hardened expression on his face. “Yes, that's exactly what happened!” He stated, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Gonta was attacked by demons!”

Everyone stopped. 

“Are you certain, Gokuhara-san? About these… demons?” asked Toujou, looking as though she were worried for his mental health in addition to his physical wellbeing. 

He nodded firmly. “Yes, Gonta is entirely sure!”

“Uu… no, they weren't demons,” Yumeno spoke up, still sticking her upper lip out in a pouting expression. “They were more like… Level 20 avian mobs. I woulda been able to deal with them, if I had the mp…” 

“What are you even talking about?” Harukawa looked particularly exasperated with the group. At the same time, Shirogane gasped “Level 20? Wow!” 

“Oh! Angie can explain!” Yonaga proclaimed. “They were falcons!” 

“Falcons?” Kaede gasped. Maybe they were merely talking about some bizarre larp session that Yumeno had roped them into, but it seemed far too serious to be something like that. “Like, the bird?”

Yumeno just blinked. “Mhm.. yeah, I guess you can call them that. It's kinda my fault, really.”

“Don't say that, Yumeno-san!” Gokuhara looked almost more wounded than he did when he entered the room. “The fault lies with that… with that strange man,” 

“Strange… man?” Saihara pondered, his interest seemingly piqued. Shinguuji raised an eyebrow as well. 

Ouma snickered. “This is a story I gotta hear, then,” 

“Alright… fine,” Yumeno grumbled, refusing to meet any of her classmates’ gazes. It was clear that the story did not end well. “Have any of y’all heard of Tanaka the Forbidden one?” On her face was an expression of immense seriousness, that starkly contrasted with the apparent nonsense she was talking about. 

“Who the fuck is that? Are you sure you're not just having delusions about some fuckin’  _ Final Fantasy  _ character, or something?” Iruma griped, evidently skeptical. 

“Actually, that's not-” Shirogane began to interject, before being interrupted by Yumeno’s sulking. 

“Nooo… he's a student. He goes here. I think he's the Super High School Level Breeder… but he's a mage, like me,” Momota looked as though he was trying not to laugh. “Don't laugh, I'm bein’ serious! He has a blog ‘n everything!” 

“So,” Kaede prompted, curious. “What happened, then?” 

Yumeno sighed, as if she didn’t want to recall the experience. Gokuhara was helped to sit down, as was Angie (although she insisted she was fine). Yumeno didn’t seem to be in any hurry to sit down herself, and everyone else was waiting for whatever crazy story she was about to tell. “Okay, I followed this blog for a while, before school started. The guy runnin’ it was a mage, or at least I thought he was. A dark mage. He liked to talk ‘bout that kinda stuff, that and his animal familiars. Goin’ on and on about… dark magic techniques. I thought it was pretty interestin’, not to mention it helped me learn some stuff about magic I really didn’t realize myself. Anyway, I’m getting off track. What I  _ didn’t _ know is that apparently, he was scouted for the main course.” Everyone groaned at the mention of the main course. “Yeah, I know. So, it turns out he’s technically the same year as us, class seventy-seven-b. I kinda thought, ‘well, he’s a user of magic, he can’t be  _ that  _ bad’. So I told Yonaga-chan and Gokuhara-kun ‘bout him.” She looked at the two, silently signaling them that it was their turn to relate their parts of the story.

“Angie had seen him around before, walking around on campus,” started the tanned girl. “He’s always given Angie… bad vibes. No one, not even that guy’s classmates, really know what to make of him, from what I know. He’s always talking about his empire, or something. He’s strange. Kami-sama told Angie to be careful of him, so naturally when Himiko told me she was going to go see him, Angie got worried. So, Angie decided to go with her!”

Gokuhara continued after that, “Tanaka-san gave Gonta some… strange feelings as well, and a true gentleman can’t leave his friends to be alone with that kind of person! So Gonta insisted that he would come along, in case anything were to happen!”

Yumeno rolled her eyes at that. “Yeah, something did happen. It actually pretty started well. Sure, he has a really weird way of talkin’, but so does practically everyone else I know, so it wasn’t that unusual.”

Shinguuji interrupted her, “... Pray tell, whatever do you mean by ‘weird way of talking’?” Himiko just stared at him for a couple of seconds, before ignoring the question completely and continuing her story.

“Like, he seemed pretty cool. Then, I mentioned about him being a mage, just like me. Hoo boy, lemme tell ya, the guy just about lost it. He started yelling ‘bout how that the magic mages do isn’t really magic, that kinda phooey. He went on and on about how the dark arts were the only ones that mattered, how anything ‘below’ that or whatever sucked and was bad. If you could guess, I got upset at that, but kept my mouth shut.”

Angie spoke up at that, “Angie told him that kami-sama knows that Himiko’s magic is real! That all magic is real, because kami-sama says it is! And, well…” She went silent after that, an air of sadness around her. Tenko went and patted her back.

Gokuhara rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “Tanaka talked about something along the lines of how ‘The Tanaka Empire doesn’t need some sham of a God, the true dark Gods will rise and prove it to everyone’. He told it to Yonaga-san’s face…” Everyone, Kaede herself included, caught themselves gasping. “After that, Gonta regrets to admit, I lost my temper… And might have almost yelled at him,” Everyone gasped louder at that.

Yumeno scoffed at him, “Not almost, ya straight up did.”

“A-anyway… Yes… Gonta yelled at him. Then Tanaka yelled something about his ‘Valkyrian Armaments of the Tanaka Empire’ and opened some cages we didn’t even notice…”   
Gokuhara just shrugged when Iruma asked him something along the lines of, “What in the literal fresh hell is that suppose to fucking mean?”

“Gonta doesn’t know… Next thing we knew, we were getting swarmed by… demons. So Gonta picked up Yonaga-san and Yumeno-san and ran for it…”

There was a couple of seconds of silence, before Iruma groaned. “You said that that emo asshole was part of seventy-seven?” Gokuhara wordlessly nodded, “Jeez, I knew they were fuckin’ jackasses, but I didn't know that it apparently ran in the entire class,” She pointed at Kiibo, “Oi, remember that guy with hair so pink it looked like a monkey’s asshole? From the tech lab?”

Kiibo simply sighed, not bothering to look up from his paper, “First of all, don't remind me. Second of all, _you could have_ _gotten yourself expelled_.”

“But I wasn't. Expelled, I mean!”

“That doesn't mean you should have been proud of what you did, it was pure luck you weren't even suspended, much less expelled!”

“ _ But I wasn't _ .”

Shinguuji seemed to realize that he wasn't to get the peace and quiet he wanted, and put his book away entirely, “I really shouldn't ask, considering your… nature… but what  _ exactly  _ did you get to get almost expelled?”

Iruma started bawling at the top of her lungs. “W-what do you m-m-mean what did  _ I _ do?! It's not my fault! Don't b-be so harsh!”

Tsumugi got her a tissue while Tenko patted her back. Shinguuji simply sighed and muttered a quiet apology. Everyone was pretty used to this kind of stuff from her by now.

“Damn right you better be sorry!” After all, she always bounced right back. 

Kiibo simply rolled his eyes at the situation. “Admittedly, that guy - Souda-san, I think it was? -  _ did _ start it, even if Iruma-san took it… too far.”

Iruma nodded. “We were just minding our own goddamn fuckin’ business before that off-branded shitty tasting soda shit ruined our entire day! I'm telling you! One moment Kiibo was working on blueprints for a new project. Sure, it's nowhere near the stuff I make, but it was still pretty damn good!”

“Uh… thanks, I guess…” Kiibo shuffled nervously. 

“So all of the sudden! This shitty pop spills all over the fucking table! The jagged fucker didn't even apologize! So I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine by giving him a front row seat to show off my purple nurple invention!” A few handful of Kaede’s classmates started to laugh, and even she couldn't hold in a giggle. Kiibo looked as though he were about to overheat from embarrassment. “Next thing I know, I'm talking to the principal. He let me off with only a warning.” Iruma finished, looking as self satisfied as ever. 

“That main course class… they're a real piece of work, aren't they?” Amami put his hands behind his head and reclined in his seat, pensive as ever. “Do you think any of them are nice?” 

Chabashira raised her hand. “Oh, Tenko knows! One of them works in the infirmary, she bandaged Tenko up after I beat up a bunch of guys!” Gokuhara looked as if he were about to say something in response (likely pertaining to why Chabashira was beating up guys), but quickly thought better of it. 

From the back of the room, Hoshi spoke up for the first time. “...You know what they say, don't you? One ripe orange doesn't save the whole batch,” he grumbled, staring out the window. “I had a strange encounter with one of them, too. I had nearly forgotten,”

Everyone turned towards him, looking intrigued. He shrunk back a little, clearly not appreciating the sudden focus, but started. “I went to the gymnasium on a whim- the one with the equipment that's shared with the main course, not the one for reserve course P.E. with the moldy lockers. There, I played a game of tennis with a strange man…” at that point during the story, he rummaged through his bag, pulled out a blue felt tip marker, and drew a line on each of his pointer fingers. “A certifiable goliath. He looked kind of like this,” with the same serious expression on his face, he held his pointer fingers above his eyelids. The marker lines gave him the impression of having eyebrows. Kaede heard Yonaga choking back a giggle. 

“So, he was your evil clone with eyebrows?” Ouma pondered, smirking. “Nishishishi, how do we know that  _ you're  _ not a clone?”

Hoshi sighed. “I was merely being facetious. As I was saying, we ended up playing a game. He was rather formidable at it himself… he offhandedly mentioned that he had trained a tennis player who won a thirty-six hour long match,”

“Who was that?” Saihara asked. 

He merely shrugged. “I don't remember their name, but I beat them a few months ago. Anyway, it's all alright until he makes a strange remark about my… physical deformities ‘keeping me out of the action’.” 

Momota whistled through his clenched teeth. Everyone could tell that this story wasn't headed in a good direction. 

“So I said that it's never kept me out of things before. And he said what kind of things. And I said tennis… and also, being a delinquent scum who attacked a few gang members a while back,” Hoshi put a hand to his cheek and looked off to the side. “And he gives me this odd look. And that's when I…”

“You… what?” Yumeno yawned, seeming to have recovered from the events of earlier that day. Hoshi pulled his hat over his eyes and quietly muttered something. “Uh… what?”

Pushing the beanie back up, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head ever so slightly. “I spit in his face. Then I walked off.” 

“It's true! Tenko saw it! Tenko was there, beating up all those boys!” Chabashira gave a triumphant smile, and Gokuhara looked oddly pleased at having his unspoken query fulfilled. 

Shinguuji sighed, softly closing his eyes for a moment. “I have… observed the main course in their deliberations at times. The human beauty that they display is rather atypical. To be precise, I have noticed several strange incidents… Cases of abuse among students, spiking of food, et cetera…” He tented his hands, deep in thought. “It’s all very bizarre.”

Harukawa scoffed. “I heard that someone in their class got hit by a car, and no one even cared.” Kaede herself was flabbergasted at the idea of that, and noticed Toujou putting her hand to her mouth in a polite gesture of shock.

Shinguuji shook his head, almost in disappointment. “Chabashira-San, can you… describe that main course student… the one from the infirmary.”

“What do you mean? Tenko doesn’t know her… or do you want to know how she looked like?” The girl questioned, cocking her head. When Shinguuji simply nodded, Chabashira took a second to recall the student. “Well, Tenko doesn’t know her name, but Tenko is guessing her talent has to do something with medicine, maybe… She was around the same height as Tenko! She had long hair that looked really choppy. Oh, and she was covered in bandages!”

Shinguuji pondered, “Hm… I’ve seen the treatment her class has displayed in regards to her. Admittedly, I have not seen a lot. However...” Shinguuji had a look on his face that had ”troubled” written all over it, which was rather uncharacteristic of the normally expressionless man. “What I’ve seen is… concerning.”

“What do you mean by concerning?” Kaede asked without thinking.

“Well… apparently, the girl is, quite frankly put, an unfortunate victim of a cycle of abuse from another classmate… ‘Bitch’, ‘whore’, ‘pig’... she’s been called it now by this point, it seems.”

That reminded of Kaede of someone. Someone who almost the whole class had met a few weeks prior. “That other classmate wouldn’t happen to be blond and wearing a kimono, would she?”

Chabashira and Shinguuji both looked surprised at that statement before the latter replied, “Yes, actually.” Chabashira bit her lip, seemingly deliberating whether or not to say something. She held her tongue, and Shinguuji continued. “The oddest part is that no one, not even their teacher, really does anything at all about it. As if it’s not their problem. How strange…” 

Everyone in the class seemed shocked at that.

Ouma scoffed, “I met one of them, that gamer girl, Chiaki Nanami, yeah, that’s her name. She doesn’t seem special at all. To think that games could be counted as a talent! I mean, think about it. You know what the worse thing is? She’s apparently their class representative. Apparently, the way she brought them together was with _video_ _games._ Like, all that stuff Shinguuji-kun said is true, but apparently the teachers in the main course are praising her for bringing them together with a measly tournament. I saw her in by the fountain, where she was hanging out with another reserve course kid. She _seemed_ okay, until I overheard her saying that she doesn’t care about her talent, how she doesn’t see why anyone would _want_ to be recognized for their talent! Nishishi, that's nonsense! I could be a better leader with my arms shut and my eyes tied behind my back!”

“That's not how the phrase goes…” Amami began, but trailed off quickly. 

Iruma cut him off, “No fuckin’ way! You’re tellin’ us a  _ main course kid told ya that talent doesn’t matter _ ? Then again, I ain’t surprised, those assholes are blind when it comes to how easy they got it!”   
“Right!? Anyway, so I’m trying to process this, like, the girl who’s known for playing  _ video games _ , who’s said to be the best at  _ video games,  _ who brought her class together with  _ video games _ , who’s bonding with this guy using, you guessed it,  _ video games _ , it telling me that she doesn’t want to be known for it!” Ouma didn’t stop for another fifteen minutes, and everyone decided to just let him go on until he finally either imploded or passed out from exhaustion. After while, he seemed to stop, maybe he ran out of ideas,  no one was sure. “Y’know, I’ve been called eccentric but man, that class really takes the cake.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that, but didn't have much else to say. Sensing an uncomfortable atmosphere of bitterness spreading throughout the room, Kaede tried to change the subject. “Hey. Did you guys hear there’s a new student in the class next door to us?”   
Her classmates looked at one another, as if expecting for someone else to have a witty retort. When no one did, they all looked at Kaede as if asking her to share her thoughts. She smiled confidently. “Ah, well, I don’t know who it is, but hopefully they’re nice!”

Momota rolled his eyes. “Whoever they are, they’re probably nicer than those main course kids.”

 

In another classroom, one filled with people who were distinctly less bitter, the new student in question had arrived. At the front of the room, she stood, absentmindedly twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger. Her stance was a confident one, as if she were the protagonist of another story entirely and she was fully aware of that fact. Despite her plain appearance, she had a devilish smirk on her face. As she drummed her fingers absentmindedly against the teacher’s desk, she began to speak to the rest of her class. 

“Hello, I am Natsumi Kuzuryuu. I don't know why I've been put with trash like you, but... Well, nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsumugi _was_ actually referencing an anime there: the second part of that sentence was a quote from Detective Conan. The more you know. 
> 
> Edit: this actually has to be said because people think we're being overly harsh on the main course kids: you have to remember that this is from the perspective of reserve course kids. It's kind of only natural for them to harbor a kind of bitterness towards the main course. We do like the sdr2 cast!   
> However, this fic won't be really that nice to them. The reserve course kids harbor natural bitterness towards the main course kids, it's only natural to dislike people that are harbored as better as you. We hope you understand and that you continue to enjoy the fic! 
> 
> sou (gonta) notes:  
> This chapter can also be known as "Wherein The Authors Complain About Dr3"  
> The NEXT chapter is a veritable behemoth that I've been itching to write ever since we started this project. Hoohoo boy
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes:  
> Sou and I wanted to include the fight scene of Tenko taking a dozen boys down but we cut it due to time issues


	3. Twilight Over Orinoco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it really a fic by either of us if we don't focus on this guy at some point?? The answer is no  
> This chapter is eleven full pages jesus christ

You could practically see the steam coming out of Natsumi Kuzuryuu’s ears as she barreled down the hallway of the reserve course. Like it had many a time before, her temper seemed to have gotten the better of her. She had gotten into four fights in just as many weeks of school, and her bitterness was only growing. 

Okay, it was five fights. Not four. But still. 

She paid little attention to the boy who was walking behind her, trying to reason with her. He was just some kid from her class, no one who she found particularly interesting, and he was really pissing her off at the moment. The boy panted as he tried to keep up with her. “Kuzuryuu-san, wait up! I'm sure that Sato-san didn't mean to…” he trailed off, trying to catch his breath, but Natsumi soldiered onwards. “H-hey, can you wait up?” 

“Okay, but consider: this literally isn't any of your business, Hinata-kun!” She snapped, turning to face him. “So stop acting like it fuckin’ is, and just don't get yourself involved with me if you can't deal with my shit!” 

Glancing around the hall, she tried to look for somewhere where she could make a quick escape. As she peered over to the right, it appeared as though good fortune was shining on her; directly on her side was a door. The sign on it bore a symbol resembling stairs and the word “ROOF” on it in raised white letters. Giving Hinata one last hateful look, she opened the door and slammed it behind her before he could even utter another pathetic “Kuzuryuu-san!” 

She knew that she wasn't meant to be confined to somewhere as lowly as the main course, but her annoying classmates reminded her of the fact that she was every single day. She was absolutely sick of it, and really needed some space. The roof was probably the best place to go - technically students were not allowed up there, but that was exactly why she wanted to hang around the area. It would be quiet, and she needed some quiet for once. 

After climbing the flights of stairs up to the roof, she slammed the door behind her and let out a huffy sigh. She just needed some time to herself, just to think. 

But it seemed as though she wouldn't be getting that much desired alone time. After all, nothing could ever be that easy. She turned round the corner of the rooftop shed that she had just exited, and came face to face with…

A… gargoyle? A statue?

The person in question was sitting against the side of the shed, unmoving save for their fingers, which tapped almost rhythmically against a book that they were holding. She couldn't see their face, but they were wearing a reserve course uniform (though she didn't know what else she would have expected. They were on the reserve course building, after all). They were wearing a hat, and… 

Despite herself, Natsumi sneezed. Quick as a whip, the person turned their neck to get a good look at her. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't deep, pure black eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul and mentally turn her inside out. 

And then she fell backwards. 

 

Hoshi had never feared death before, but death had never appeared to him in the form of a blonde girl brandishing a pocketknife. 

He had discovered the stairs to the roof about a month prior, and it had become a hideout of sorts for him. Though he could not bring himself to hate or avoid any of his classmates, he was a solitary creature by nature. Sometimes, he just needed some space - and he wasn't sure about whether his classmates noticed his absence. So he had come up to the roof to read and to watch the world go by. 

He assumed that the girl stumbled upon the area by happenstance, judging by how surprised she looked. He supposed he could understand. He knew his appearance could be… jarring, at times, especially within the faceless mass of the reserve course. But her reaction had been fairly exaggerated: upon seeing him, she had let out a shriek and fallen right on her ass, and she was now menacingly pointing a knife at him. It brought back old memories of juvy, to be honest. 

But he was especially unperturbed, and merely glanced at her with an upturn of his lips. 

“...Do you mind?” He finally spoke, nodding in the direction of the knife. 

The girl only clenched it tighter. “Who the  _ fuck _ are you? What are you even doing up here?”

He scoffed, in spite of himself. “I'm no one of particular importance. Maybe I was once, but not now.”

“Well… well, I  _ am _ someone of importance, or whatever! Do you even know who I am?!” she snapped, jabbing a finger at her chest. She looked particularly infuriated, but in a manner that was so childish that he couldn't take her seriously. “Y’see, I'm a Super High School Level! Natsumi Kuzuryuu, the Super High School Level Little Sister!” A devilish grin spread across her face, as if she thought she had him beat. “Suck on that, shorty!” 

So, this was what he was being faced with. All Hoshi could do was force a light smile and stare at her with his own droopy, tired eyes, though he could not hide his evident skepticism. “My name’s Hoshi. Ryoma Hoshi,” He gave her a pointed look. “That’s a real nice reserve course uniform you’ve got there, Miss Super-High-School-Level.” 

He had clearly hit a nerve, as she began to become even more huffy than she had been before. “Well, I have a damn good reason for that!” she barked, “They haven’t scouted me yet, ‘cause they ran out of room in the main course,” Hoshi felt his mouth twisting into a leer at that point, but repressed it as best he could. “But soon they’re gonna, and I’ll be in the main course with all the rest of ‘em!” Natsumi looked exceptionally proud of herself at that statement. It was something that probably was meant to anger him or make him feel nervous in her rather intimidating presence, but he didn’t feel particularly roused by it. 

“Why do you want to be in the main course so badly?” He asked, admittedly a bit curious. Her quest seemed rather odd to him - most of the reserve course students definitely dreamed of getting into the main course, but none were so vocal about it. 

“My big bro’s in the main course! And I gotta get in there too, if I wanna be able to keep up with him,” she was especially indignant at the subject. 

“Fascinating,” he muttered, returning to his book. He wasn't really that fascinated. But then he realized something. “You said your name was Kuzuryuu? Like… the Kuzuryuu clan?” 

The smug grin on her face could have melted steel with its brightness. Her teeth were so white. “That's the one! So you see, right? You see why I should be in the main course?” 

“So you're a mafiosa...” He rolled his ever-present piece of candy between his teeth, giving her a withering look. “Gross,” 

He had quite clearly hit a nerve with that one. “Gross?  _ Gross?! _ Oh, please! If anyone is gross, it's you, you fuckin’ gremlin! Just sitting there, all smug, with your-” In one fluid movement that rivaled his athlete’s reflexes, she snatched the book out of his hands (with the hand that wasn’t holding the pocketknife) and scanned the cover. “Chuck Palahniuk? Oh, you pretentious little fuck!” 

Hoshi just sighed and pushed his hat down on his forehead. “I don’t suppose you mean to make me chase you around for it, do you? ‘Cause I don’t really want to do that,” 

“Well… I…” She blushed, still steaming. “Yeah, that was what I thought would happen. Whatever, I didn’t come up here to fight anyone, anyway,” She finally shoved the knife into her pocket, and popped a squat beside him. He gave her a languid look, but said nothing and quickly returned to staring off into space. 

They sat, for a while, not speaking a word to one another. Simply just being, that was all. Hoshi thought he saw Natsumi pick up his book and flip through some of the pages out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look at her, she was still just sitting there. 

At one point, he noticed her stick her hand into the waistband of her skirt and pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. As he watched, she balanced a cigarette between her two front teeth and began fiddling with the lighter. It took her a few tries, but she eventually got it working, and she lit it.

He wasn’t planning on saying anything, but she thrust the pack onto his lap. “You want one?” She asked, sizing him up as he turned the pack over in his hands with an uncertain expression. 

“That’s a disgusting habit.” He set it down gently by his ankle, not turning to see whatever unpleasant expression he presumed that Natsumi had on her face. If he had looked, he would have seen that she was more incredulous than anything, but he didn’t. 

He heard her grunt, and softly mutter “Well, whatever.” 

Eventually, he checked his phone and realized that it was probably time for him to get going back to class. He didn’t think anyone noticed he was gone, but he didn’t want to arouse suspicion, anyway. He murmured something about having to go, not looking her in the face. She handed him his book back without a word, and watched him as he opened the door to the shed that led back to the mindless hustle and bustle of the reserve course.

Neither of them said it, but they both knew that they would be coming back there sooner or later. 

 

Despite the fact that their meetings were so strange and awkward, they continued to have them. Over the next week or so, Hoshi would slip away from his class during lunch and free periods to hang out on the roof with Natsumi. Though they often had long periods of silence where neither of them spoke, it felt as though they had a mutual understanding. 

Their conversations ranged from being about movies to about family life - Hoshi usually didn’t have much to say on the latter, so he let her fill in the gaps there. He found out a lot more than he probably would have liked to know about her brother, since she talked about him so often. They were typical fighting siblings, and it seemed that though they often quarreled, they really did care for each other at the end of the day. Hoshi tended to remain silent when she talked about her brother, but he was admittedly the slightest bit jealous of the fact that she had someone to fall back on when times were tough.

He would often see her brother (what was his name, again?) from time to time on campus, and would often stare, but never worked up the guts to say anything. He was a reserve course student, after all, and nothing more. 

“Why do you always say that?” Natsumi would ask every once in a while.

He would regard her with his cold, black eyes, a smug expression on his face. “Say what?”

She would usually make herself more comfortable after she had his attention, putting her hands behind her head or crossing her legs. “That you’re just a reserve course student. Don’t you wanna move up in the world?”

“No, I’ve accepted my place in the hierarchy,” he’d murmur, twirling one of Natsumi’s cigarettes between his fingers. He didn’t smoke, but they were always there. “There’s nothing for me in the main course… as they say, ‘If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever.”

“Which fucking nerd said that?!” She’d laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

Life was fine.

 

Contrary to what Hoshi thought, his classmates back in Room 1R did notice his absences on occasion. Though it was like him to be quiet and somewhat isolated from the rest of the group, he usually didn’t skip free periods or lunch. But it was becoming more and more common that he would just be absent. 

“Maybe he’s made some friends in another class?” Kaede suggested at one point, while a couple of them were sitting around a cafeteria table. Harukawa merely scoffed in response.

“No, he wouldn’t go out of his way to make friends. I don’t think you know him.”

“Oh! I know!” Ouma started, prompting the two girls (along with Yonaga and Toujou, who were also sitting at the table) to give him their full attention. “I heard he’s out killing people! Or making love to some Russian Bondgirl femme fatale!” 

“What are your sources on that?” Harukawa grumbled.

“Me!” 

Yonaga bit her fingernail cutely, though she seemed to be deep in thought. “Kami-sama says that’s not true at all - the killing part, at least. Something tells Angie that he  _ is _ with a girl!” Ouma wolf-whistled, and Kaede just sighed. 

Harukawa put her elbows on the table, resting her cheeks on her balled fists. “So. I guess the question is, do we try to see what’s going on?” 

“Of course! I wanna see if he’s been having some hot sex!” Ouma called, but everyone ignored him. 

Toujou took the opportunity to speak up for the first time. “If you really want to know,” she murmured, tracing a line on the dusty table with the finger of her glove, “I could go and see. Hoshi-san and I have a positive enough relationship, after all.” Everyone seemed to be pleased at her volunteering, so it was decided that she would go. Ouma offered her a high five, but she didn’t take it. 

And so it was that the next day, she kept her eyes on him in class. He seemed to be acting fairly normal: sure, he stared out the window a lot and mumbled his answers when called on by the teacher, but that was pretty normal for him. 

The hours ticked by agonizingly slow, but lunch time eventually came. At first, Hoshi didn’t do anything too suspicious. But soon, the class became distracted by a problem that Gokuhara was having with a colony of cockroaches he was taking care of (and rightfully so, Toujou thought, as she didn’t particularly enjoy the insects herself). He took the opportunity to slip out the door without anyone noticing him… or so he thought.

Unbeknownst to him, Toujou had begun to follow his trail. It was difficult to keep track of him through the crowd of students that always seemed to occupy the building’s halls, but she persevered, and eventually found herself at the doors that led up to the roof.

_ What could Hoshi-san be doing up there? _ She thought to herself, her curiosity piqued. Glancing around to make sure that no one was looking at her (how ironic), she quietly let herself in and began to climb the stairs up to the roof. 

As she ascended the building, thoughts of what exactly he was doing ran through her head. She didn’t think that it was anything major, but she never did know with him. He was rather mysterious, after all.

She reached the door to the roof, and opened it just a crack in order to peek out. While she didn’t see anything, she could hear voices. 

One was a familiar baritone.

The other was much higher, but still familiar. And Toujou’s blood turned cold. 

 

He was heading back to class, descending the stairs as he always did. They’d had a pretty good talk, after all, and it had him in a better-than-normal mood. His normally heavy steps were lighter than usual.

But we’re talking about Ryouma Hoshi here. Of course it wouldn’t last.

When he opened the door back into the hallway, Toujou was waiting for him. The expression on her face was one of disapproval, and she made it clear that whatever encounter they were about to have would not be a pleasant one. Hoshi wasn’t religious, but when he made eye contact with Toujou, he was praying to whatever god Angie worshipped. 

She put her hands on her hips. “We need to talk,” she muttered, and it made him cringe. That was probably the worst sentence that anyone in the history of humanity had ever come up with, and a surefire way to put a pit in anyone’s stomach. Still, he complied, and followed her as she walked out to the reserve course’s courtyard. She positioned herself ever-so-properly on a bench that faced the main quad, and he climbed onto it with considerably less grace. The two of them watched the students, both main and reserve course, walk by for a few minutes. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room. 

Hoshi let out a hacking cough all of a sudden. It seemed as though Toujou would have jumped, but she was too composed for it. “You’ve found me out, then,” He muttered, kicking his legs rhythmically so that his shoes clanged against the bench’s supports. “So did people actually notice that I was cutting class, or-”

“That's not what I'm here to talk about, Hoshi-san,” Toujou rested her hands on her lap and stared down at them as if she were holding something particularly interesting. “That girl. Do you know who she is?”

“Hmph, Kuzuryuu-kun?” He gave her a sheepish look, unsure of where this exchange was headed. “We’re just friends, and I don't even like girls much anyway. Why? Do you know her, or something?” 

She nodded. “I do. And it would be in your best interests to stay away from her.”

What. 

Hoshi ogled Toujou, trying to understand her reasoning, but she remained firm in her appearance. “You what. How would you know that?” 

“I worked for the Kuzuryuus, long ago,” She stared off into the distance, seemingly melancholy. “I know them fairly well, and I know that trouble follows Natsumi Kuzuryuu. It would be wise of you to avoid her,” 

Hoshi sighed. “Big deal. Trouble follows me, too. Maybe that's why we get along,” he continued to kick his feet. “‘Sides, I've met worse people in juvy. She's harmless.” 

“I'm not so sure about that, Hoshi-san.”

He scoffed in indignation. “You're kidding me, right? You shouldn't spend so much time worrying about me, anyway.” Having had quite enough of the current conversation, he climbed off of the bench and pushed his beanie down on his forehead. “I'll be fine. Nice talkin’ with you, Toujou.” 

And before she could say anything, he had run off to someone else. Toujou was left to stare after him in an expression of confusion and vague concern. 

Did he have such little value for his own life that he would disregard any caring action taken towards him? Toujou pondered the idea as she walked silently back to class. 

 

She had told him about the fights, the scuffles she’d had with a particularly difficult girl. She had brown hair (“More like an ugly-ass toady brown than cute brown,” Natsumi would state), and that's all he ever knew about her. Hoshi never even found out her full name, and was never able to associate a face to her name even after Natsumi pointed her out to him. 

They had started small, and fairly infrequent. At least, as infrequent as Natsumi’s fiery nature would allow for, which meant that they happened every week or two. But in the weeks since Toujou had delivered him her grave warning, they had increased exponentially. He found himself confronted with a more irritated Natsumi each time he came up to the roof, so he just sat and let her vent and scream as much as she wanted. It wasn't his place to judge her, anyway, not with what he himself had done. 

On one warm afternoon, he arrived to see her with a split lip and a bloody nose. She was just looking past him, at the horizon beyond. She didn't talk, but he could feel her quaking with anger. So he just put an arm around her and continued his typical silence, and he felt her tense up before resigning herself to whatever this was. 

He truly wanted to show solidarity for her, but he was growing a little concerned. But he shrugged it off with his usual philosophy that he stayed out of things. After all, it didn't affect him in any way. He didn't even know who this “Sato” was. 

It didn't affect him, until it did. 

 

He walked to class with Momota sometimes, listening to him prattle on about space or whatever was on his mind. And he would nod and occasionally grunt, maybe contribute a few one-liners from time to time. And that's what he was doing - but on one particular day, he heard shouting from down the hall that drowned out Momota’s jabbering. He trailed off, but Hoshi had stopped cold. 

“Is that…”

“Hoshi-kun? Is there something-”

With a hurried “igottago”, he ran around the corner as fast as his legs could carry him, pushing through a crowd of disgruntled reserve course students. Once he reached the forefront, what he saw made him choke back a shout. 

He had never seen Natsumi outside of their rooftop escapades, so seeing her in the hallway was strange in itself. But seeing her so disheveled, screeching at the top of her lungs at a plain-looking girl - it froze the sweat on the back of his neck. 

But he wouldn't get involved he wouldn't get involved he wouldn't get in- ah, fuck it. 

It looked as though the fight was going to turn physical, but Hoshi barreled through the crowd and tacked Natsumi. “Kuzuryuu-kun, stop it! You're going to get expelled, or something!” He grunted, trying his best to keep her from launching herself at Sato. At the same time, another person burst out of the crowd and put a forceful hand on Sato’s shoulder - a redheaded girl who he vaguely recognized from the main course. Her approach was a lot more peaceful than Hoshi’s tackling, but whatever. 

“Nngh- let go of me, you fuckin’ shorty! This isn't your fight!” She screeched, shoving all 88 pounds of the tennis player off of her. She whipped around to face Sato, but she and the main course student had disappeared into the already-dispersing crowd. 

Having nothing else to direct her anger at, she turned towards Hoshi. “You little fuck! I was winning!” The expression on her face was one of pure irritation. 

It was completely belied by Hoshi’s apathetic look. “Are you shitting me?” 

“Wh-what was that?!”

“I said, are you shitting me?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he were nursing a nosebleed. “Christ, Kuzuryuu-kun. You could get expelled for this, or worse. Was it really worth it?” 

“Oh, look at you! Bein’ so high-and-mighty, and all that garbage. You can't fuckin’ tell me that you haven't done that before! You're the one who's been in fucking jail, and yet you're treating me like a criminal!”

He sighed, still radiating disapproval. “Fine. Okay. Just… stop being so aggressive all the time, maybe?” 

Natsumi looked like she was about to blow up at him, but her shoulders slumped and she seemed to have lost the vigor she once had. “Fuck. You know what? Fine. I'm. Done.” She started to storm down the hall, moving quickly away from him. “Nice talking to you, Hoshi,”

“Kuzuryuu-kun, wait-” he started, but she was already gone, and he was left standing alone to nurse his own wounds and blow off steam by himself. 

 

Natsumi didn't come up to the roof the next day. 

Or the next. 

Or the day after that. 

But Hoshi showed up each time. On the fourth day, he’d even bought a box of the cigarettes that she liked. He'd meant to apologize - he wasn't particularly used to it, but he felt as though it was necessary in this situation. The wind whistled, and he kept expecting to hear the roof door open up, and the sound of Natsumi’s aggressive steps as she stepped outside. He pushed his hat up on his forehead, trying to look presentable. 

He hadn't been too worried for the first three days. She could have gotten suspended, after all. Suspensions normally lasted around three days, didn't they? A week at most. So he decided that he would be diligent, and he would wait. 

After the fourth day, he came back one more time. It was a Friday, and he was sure that he would see her then. She'd come up to the roof, he'd apologize, and she'd yank on his ear or do something of the sort. 

Anxiety crept in slowly, its smoky tendrils enveloping Hoshi over time. He didn't even bother to bring a book or anything with him, so he was left alone with his thoughts. 

With his thoughts and the packet of cigarettes. 

Shaking his head, he fished a lighter out of his uniform pocket. And he lit it. 

 

The weekend came, same as it ever did, with no sign of Natsumi anywhere. Hoshi tried not to think too much of it, and decided to take the day off to watch some movies. He was in the courtyard, and was thinking of inviting one of his peers over, since he'd been hanging out alone most of the time. Before he could deliberate which, though, someone slammed into him. 

Hoshi got knocked back, his hat flying off of his head. He quickly grabbed it and pulled it over his rusty hair before squinting up at the person who had intruded on his thoughts. Brown hair, a plain face… 

He'd seen this girl before. 

She cleared her throat, eyes darting nervously around. It seemed like she was trying to look anywhere but at him. “Uh, sorry. Wasn't looking where I was going. Are you alright?” 

“I'm fine,” he muttered. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You're… you’re Sato, right?”

“Yeah, that's me,” she began to tap her foot impatiently. “Sorry, again. I gotta go,” Before he could say anything, she had walked off. All he could do was stare behind her. 

Girls were weird. 

 

Looking back at that moment, Hoshi realized that there was something hanging over him that he had not yet sensed. An ominous feeling that nested in the pit of his stomach later on like a snake in a hole. 

The other shoe dropped about an hour later, in the reserve course dorms. The room was dark, and the curtains were closed as he squinted at the tiny TV that was provided for each dorm. An old movie was playing. Later, he wouldn't be able to remember what movie it was. 

There was a polite knock at the door, and he rolled over on his bed. “Door’s open,” he called, lazily beginning to sit up. A pair of perfectly polished black flats crossed the threshold, being attached to a girl whose uniform was in a similarly impeccable state. 

Hoshi turned to her. “Toujou?” He asked, incredulous. “What are you d-” 

“Come with me. I think you deserve to know about this,” she murmured, her voice as soft as ever. Inquisitively, he climbed off of the bed and followed her as she walked out the door and down the dorm hallway. He became acutely aware of a whispering noise coming from clusters of students in the halls. He followed her down to the dorm lobby, and the noise developed into a gentle mutter, so subdued that it almost had a melancholy air to it. 

There were lots of students in the lobby, far more than usual, and they all seemed to be crowded around something. Hoshi dashed ahead of Toujou, trying to get a better look - and almost immediately wished that he hadn't. 

There was a sweet smell of flowers. It would have almost been pleasant, if not for the fact that the flowers were flanking something. There were candles laid gently on the floor, flickering as if they had nothing else to give but their gentle light. The flowers and the candles were only there to highlight the centerpiece, though: in the middle of the display, draped in black ribbon, was a photograph of Natsumi Kuzuryuu. 

And she was laughing. 

 

Blunt force trauma to the head in the music room. Did Natsumi even like music? It only took a few bangs and she was out like a light. Goodnight, Natsumi. 

There were whispers about her poor brother, and about what the Kuzuryuu clan would do about the situation. No one whispered about her friends. Toujou had given Hoshi a sad, sympathetic look, but he didn't have it in him to return it. 

He felt as though a black rot had taken hold, festering until it covered his insides. But even so, he went to class the next morning. 

Toujou had clearly told the others what had went down, as he was greeted with a lot of melancholy glances when he entered Room 1R. Gokuhara even wrapped him up in one of his signature bear hugs, but he stared blankly and his arms remained limp at his sides. He stared off into space for the entire day, while the teacher pretended not to see him. 

Inexplicably, he received an invitation to the funeral. Toujou had gotten one, too, but at least she had a reason. It was raining on the day that it happened. Rain at a funeral was the most cliched of cliches, but the storm that was brewing in Hoshi’s head couldn't be compared to the gentle drizzle that wet the shoulders and hair of the funeral attendees. It was also here where he first got a good look at Natsumi’s infamous brother, Fuyuhiko. His head was down, and he looked as though he was trying to hold in tremors. 

Hoshi felt flat and dull. 

He noticed Toujou keeping an eye on him for the first part of the funeral reception, but she was quickly called away by some big-league Yakuza people. He wasn't sure what to do with his newfound freedom, but his eyes quickly found the elder Kuzuryuu. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Despite his better judgement, Hoshi decided to approach him. 

He shuffled over, trying not to look as pathetic as he felt. “...Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, right?” He rumbled. The other looked down, and his eyes widened for a second before squinting in suspicion. 

“Yeah. The fuck do you want?” 

“I…” he clearly hadn't thought this through, and he cursed himself for it. “Ku- your sister was a friend of mine, and I wanted to offer my condolences. I understand what you're going through,”

Fuyuhiko choked out a laugh, as forced as it was harsh. “You… understand? Listen, you fucking gnome, don't act like you know me. Get lost.”

“I-”

“I said, get lost!” Hoshi didn't have time to react before Fuyuhiko swung his leg and kicked him square in the face. He was sent staggering backwards, landing on one palm in order to keep himself stable. Fuyuhiko stormed away, and Hoshi had never run away from anywhere so fast. 

Though his nose was bloody and his eye was swollen, he felt number than ever before. 

 

He started putting the pieces together afterwards, when he came across the redheaded main course girl on the quad. She had a complex-looking camera in her hand, and peered through the lens as if she were scrutinizing a possibly counterfeit piece of jewelry. 

Hoshi was planning on maybe approaching her - after all, she had been involved in the fight Natsumi had, before she… anyway - but there was something about her that made him stop and scan her. 

Her hands seemed to wrap around the camera with less certainty that one would expect of an ultimate, and something about her stance was odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was bizarre about this whole situation. And the look on her face was…

The realization slammed him in the face with full force at the same time as her camera went off. 

_ Click! _

 

“I need your help,” he said, startling Saihara. Hoshi had taken a seat near him during their free period that day, but he wasn't expecting him to talk. Hoshi hadn't really said anything in days, and he looked as though he had been walking through a tornado. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and overgrown bits of his short hair stuck out from under his hat. 

Saihara gulped, and pointed at himself. “M-me?” He questioned, and Hoshi nodded. 

“Yeah, you. I have a theory about this… thing,” he seemed visibly uncomfortable, which was a strange look for him. “You're a detective, aren't you? So I need you to help me file a  _ fucking  _ police report, Saihara,” he drawled. 

Apprehensive, Saihara considered his options. He could probably say no, but did he really want to? Denying a grieving person closure was probably a bad idea. 

So he nodded. “Okay, sure,” 

 

A few hours later, Hoshi had a realization. And it wasn't a good one. 

“Ugh, god,” he muttered, twirling a lit cigarette between his fingers. Saihara had glanced at him nervously when he lit it, but didn't say anything. “I can't even turn this in. Jesus. I'm an idiot.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Hmph. Even if you take the fact that I have a delinquency record out of the equation, there's still the issue of that main course girl. What was her name? Hozumi?”

“Koizumi, actually-”

“I don't care. But her being involved screws this whole thing over,” he sighed. “Hope’s Peak has a record of covering up stuff regarding its main course students. What could someone like me do against that?” 

Saihara awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Hoshi-kun, it’s not-”

“No, forget it. Sorry for wasting your time” 

He stood up and walked out of the room before Saihara could even respond. 

Damn, was he fast. 

 

They dropped the investigation the next day. Inconclusive, they said. They couldn't find enough evidence on the crime scene to incriminate anyone specific, and had decided to stop it and move onto things that they could actually solve. 

Amami had brought it up in class, despite the pointed looks that he received from several others. It's not like you could blame him, though - since Natsumi’s death, Hoshi had practically become a shadow compared to his classmates. 

As Amami talked, the tennis player’s face twisted into a nearly unrecognizable, cloudy expression. 

_ SLAM.  _

The room went dead silent as fifteen pairs of eyes turned to look at Hoshi. He had punched the wall, making a small crack in the paint. There was an uncomfortable period of tension as no one dared move or speak. 

He stood up, muttering something about needing to go to the bathroom, and ran out of the room. 

Everyone shifted uncomfortably, and Toujou folded her hands in her lap. Harukawa turned to Amami, glowering. 

“You're a fucking idiot, Rantarou Amami.”

“Yeah, I know.” 

 

Sato joined Natsumi’s funeral display the next day. 

He saw the latter’s brother lurking around. 

It was easy to tell who had done it, but he knew that nothing could be done. Not by him. 

He burnt through two packs of cigarettes in one day. 

Oh, god. 

 

Toujou’s intuition rarely failed her, especially when it came to knowing people’s whereabouts. So it was only natural that when she went searching for Hoshi, she would find him, even if she didn't want to. 

The man of the hour was up on the roof, like he'd been the last time she went looking for him. But instead of leaning on the side of the rooftop shed, he was sitting on the edge. His feet dangled, looking even smaller than normal against the backdrop of the ground below. His right hand was occupied by a lighter, and he kept flicking and capping it almost methodically. 

Neither of them spoke for the longest time, though she did notice Hoshi tense up at the sound of her footsteps. It was almost as if he had expected someone else. 

He didn't turn to look at her. 

“You knew, didn't you.” 

Toujou raised her eyebrow. “I did?” 

“You know the Kuzuryuus. You know what they're capable of, and I know, too. And I know that you could have stopped this- the second one, at least.”

“How do you suppose that?”

“Jesus, Toujou, you could have  _ talked _ to him. You know him. And… it's just like me. I could have done something, but no. I stopped myself ‘cause I'm nothing but a bad influence and a reserve student.” 

Toujou shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep her composure. “Hoshi-san. That's not true, and we both know that.” 

Hoshi smiled, but something dark lurked underneath his teeth. “No, we don't,” he muttered. “But it's both on our hands, now.” 

There was nothing else to be said. 

They stared on into the horizon, uncertain in a way that they had never been before. 

The sun set somewhere at that moment, but not there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Orinoco River Basin contains the largest population of piranhas in the world. 
> 
> sou (gonta) notes:  
> i am so sorry
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes:  
> WELCOME TO OUR FUCK HOUSE  
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> (Please comment if you can!! We appreciate your feedback. Also, we're starving here)


	4. For Your Consideration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's come to our attention that this fic has been added to tvtropes' Danganronpa Fic Rec page! We screamed about this for like half an hour honestly  
> We'd really like to thank all of you for all the support we've gotten. Neither of us ever could have imagined that we would be this successful with our fic. We really appreciate all your feedback and continued reading, and we hope that you'll stick with us on this crazy road trip of a story.

Despite the fact that he prided himself on his poker face, it was clear on Ouma’s face whenever he was thinking deeply. His eyebrows always furrowed ever so slightly, and his lower lip would pop out in a pout. He lost the devious look that he usually had, sitting in his own little world.

He didn't do it often, but Kaede noticed him doing it in class one day. The teacher - a tired-looking man with slicked-back hair and a bit of a paunch - was droning on about the Edo period. Shinguuji and Shirogane looked pretty interested, while Kiibo and Gokuhara were trying their best to keep up, but everyone else looked as though they'd rather be on fire than in that hot, dusty classroom.

Kaede’s attention had been drifting, when her eyes landed on Ouma. She almost snickered when she saw the look on his face - it was uncommonly serious, not very at home on his boyish face. He clearly had something on his mind… but _what?_

Kaede tried not to think about it, and started trying to take notes on the teacher’s lesson until realizing that her handwriting was devolving into illegible scribbles.

 

The long-awaited free period finally arrived, and the teacher was called out of the room for some personal business. The whole class was left to their own devices, and they had a blissful forty-minutes-or-so of sweet reprieve until they had to delve back into learning territory.

Kaede had made plans to go to the reserve course’s music room so that she could pick up some new sheet music during the period, and had insisted on dragging Harukawa along. She walked over to the pigtailed girl, and the two of them began heading towards the door-

But Ouma shot up, bounded towards the door, and quickly locked it.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him, then at the door, then back at him. The pensive look on his face had long since twisted into a cheeky grin.

Iruma finally spoke up. “Uh. Ouma, what the fuck?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don't have a crude nickname for me?”

“Ugh, I couldn't think of one.” She glared at him like she was trying to shoot lasers out of her eyes.

“Ou… Oumotherfucker?” Shirogane snapped out of her trance to contribute, eliciting strange looks from those sitting around her.

Iruma laughed. “Nah, that one sucks! Nice try, though. Didn't think you had it in ya,” she suddenly caved inward, her prideful airs giving way to a crybaby’s personality. “B-but what are you doing?? Are you gonna lock us in here ‘n KILL us??”

Ouma sniggered, seemingly amused. “Why would I do that? We just _had_ a murder in the reserve source, we don't need another,” Kaede winced, trying to look at what Hoshi was doing out of the corner of her eye, but he was just staring emptily out the window. Ouma put his hands on his hips. “But the thing is, none of you are leaving this room until I test a theory of mine!”

“A… theory?” Shinguuji asked, looking up from his book. He absentmindedly fingered the top of his mask. Ouma only grinned wider, but there was a certain tiredness behind it. “What, then? If it's anthropological, I could probably help-”

“Not quite, but I was getting to that. I want to figure out why we're all here.”

“Eh… what do you mean by that?” Yumeno murmured.

“Well,” Ouma started, “Normally kids in the reserve course are kind of rich, right? I mean, it's _super_ expensive to enroll in the reserve course. Buuuut…” he put a finger to his chin inquisitively. “Well, we’re clearly. Not that. I mean, Gonta-chan was raised by wolves! Wolves don't even _have_ money!”

“Well, actually-” Gokuhara began to say, but he was cut off by Ouma before he could give a lesson on whatever wolves employed as currency. He walked over to the teacher’s desk and dramatically slammed his fist on it. He was clearly enjoying having everyone’s attention on him, and was going to milk it for everything he could. Kaede rolled her eyes, and Harukawa ran her hand down her face in exasperation.

“Not only that, but, like… look at us. We're a motley crew if I've ever seen one! And we have actual interests. Can any of you name _one_ thing that's popular in the reserve course? Or anyone who’s obsessed with anything?”

“Now that I think of it…” Shirogane pondered. “Not really.” There was a _thunk_ noise as Hoshi laid his head down on his desk, but he didn't say anything.

“So that's what I wanna figure out! What makes us different from not only the main course, but also the rest of the reserve course?” Ouma finished, fixing his gaze on the rest of the class in anticipation.

“The light of kamisama doesn't reach the others?” Yonaga offered.

“Maybe it's the fact that we all have weird hair…” pondered Kiibo, prompting a scoff from Iruma. She reached over and started yanking on his cowlick, much to his chagrin. “I-Iruma-san! What are you doing?”

She chortled. “Talk about the pot callin’ the kettle black, Kiibutt!”

Momota scratched the back of his head. “Okay, I'll bite. What is it?”

Ouma’s smile froze on his face. “I dunno!”

“Really?? Aw, I thought you had an actual answer!”

“Well…” he flailed his hands aimlessly. “I'm trying to figure it out!”

Kaede wasn't sure herself. She could definitely tell what Ouma was talking about - she had witnessed it herself, after all - but wasn't sure about what it was. She couldn't put her finger on it, though she knew it was there-

Amami finally spoke up. “I know,” he said, leaning back on his chair. Toujou glanced at his precarious position, seemingly wanting to tell him to sit like a normal person, but if she did, she didn't act on it. There was a strange look on Amami’s face, like he knew something that the others did not. Then again, he usually looked like that. “Ouma-kun is right. I think we do have something in common…” He steepled his fingers.

“Spit it out, then!” Chabashira snapped.

“Well… have any of you heard of second considerations?”

 

The room suddenly turned silent as everyone stopped dead. A few people looked at each other uncomfortably, realization dawning on them.

Gokuhara just looked confused.

“Erm… Gonta doesn't know what that is,” he murmured, prodding his fingers against each other nervously.

“Ah, it's nothing, then.” Amami said, as if trying to backpedal.

“Uh… I think I can explain.” Saihara finally spoke up, looking particularly nervous. The class’s attention turned towards him. “Second considerations… it's when you're scouted for the main course, but you don't make it… erm, I think reasons for it vary.” He stammered.

“Wait a minute!” Kaede exclaimed, suddenly realizing. “Did we… did we all get second considerations?”

“Yep.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I mean, I did.”

“So did Tenko!”

“Hnnn….”

“You're telling me that…” Momota started, incredulous. “That we’re the _reject_ class? The ones who couldn't cut it?”

“It would seem so.” Toujou confirmed, prompting the rest of the class to shift uncomfortably.

Amami scratched behind his ear. “I guess this is the part where we go around and say why we got rejected?” No one denied it, so he continued, “I'm not usually one to share personal information, but… whatever.”

“I was scouted to be the Super High School Level Adventurer - I did a lot of camping, and stuff. But I've been expelled from two boarding schools in the past, so…” he shrugged, extremely nonchalant despite the implications of what he had just said. “They just kind of plopped me down here, I guess.”

“You g-got expelled, _twice?!_ ” Kiibo gasped. “But why??”

“Eh, I'll tell you when you're older.”

“That's not an answer!”

“Something similar happened to me…” Kaede mumbled, shamefully remembering. “A few years ago, I infringed copyright on a song that I composed. It was resolved pretty fast, so I almost forgot, but… I guess Hope’s Peak didn't.”

“There was a scandal with one of my cosplay models a while back… Oh, I think that's why I didn't make it into the main course. It was futile,” Shirogane lamented.

Momota clenched his fist. “Dammit, now I remember. I was _this_ close to making it into the main course! I got visited by a scout and everything - for my astronomy stuff. He was this blond guy, I think.”

“What happened?” Saihara asked meekly.

“Uh…” Momota grimaced. “I made a dumb mistake.”

“And that mistake was…?” Harukawa prompted.

“I gave him these fake papers that I used to get into a nightclub... by accident, of course. It really wasn't smart of me! But… they said that they'd give me a second consideration, because they liked my personality… or something.”

“I have several restraining orders from my… observations,” Shinguuji volunteered. Hoshi lifted up his head, gave him a weird look, and promptly got up. As the rest of the class watched, he unlocked the door and walked out. Momota ran after him, shouting questions about where he was going.

Shinguuji started to sweat, but retained his calm look. “Anyway. I presume we’re all in here because we've all committed crimes?”

“No, that's not it!” Ouma proclaimed. “I've never done anything wrong in my life.” Harukawa just sighed, and Iruma let out a cackle. “Really, though. I didn't get into this mess by being a delinquent.”

“Really?” Saihara asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“Yeah! So here's the thing. I was student council president at my old school, right?”

“Wait.” Harukawa muttered. “You were _what_? Who elected you?”

He pouted, crocodile tears welling up in his eyes. “Aah, don't be mean to me! You don't know my life.” The pigtailed girl looked away, and he continued. “So anyway, I thought I was on a surefire path to being a SHSL, right? I mean, they bring in a new SHSL Student Council President every couple of years, I think.” He suddenly puffed out his cheeks, looking childishly infuriated. “But nooo! They had to give the title to Soshun Murasame!”

Chabashira looked confused. “Who?”

“That's my point! Who even _is_ that?” Ouma huffed indignantly. “So that's the story. I got rejected for someone who I don't even know.”

“Oh! Same with Angie!” The girl interjected, raising her hand. “But Angie knows who she got rejected for.”

“Really?” Kaede asked. “Who?”

The light in Yonaga’s eyes dimmed slightly. “Well, there's one overseas student in each class. Angie was one of the top nominations for it this year!”

“That's great, Yonaga-san!” said Gokuhara, causing her to smile weakly.

“Who was the other?” Yumeno wondered.

“Well…” Yonaga looked down at her lap. “Uh… Sonia Nevermind.”

“Princess of Novoselic?” Shinguuji questioned, and she nodded with a graveness not at home on her sunny features. “Mmph, that is hard to compete with.”

“Ergh, I think that's what happened to me, too.” Iruma grumbled. “Kiibo, remember that piss yellow guy?”

“The one who you…” he blushed profusely, remembering what had happened before. “Never mind. What about him?”

Iruma bit her fingernail. “Well, we're both in tech-based fields, right? I mean, I'm the best damn inventor I know, and you're kind of okay at robotics.”

“That was… a very backhanded compliment, Iruma-san.”

“Appreciate it! But anyway, I think those crusty old guys chose him over us.”

“You really…” Kiibo trailed off, the pieces coming together in his head. “You're kidding.”

Toujou gave a quick nod, clearly wanting to shift the topic away from the nipple twisting incident. “If I may… I used to work for the family of one particular student. I suppose that they could have gotten me in if I still worked for them, but…” she trailed off.

“That one doesn't sound _that_ bad,” Shirogane reassured her.

Toujou still looked uncertain. “There's also another thing-”

“What about you, Saihara-chan?” Ouma interrupted. Saihara pointed a finger at himself in uncertainty.

“Me? Oh, uh…”

“Yeah, you! I mean, there's no Super High School Level Detective this year. Use your ghost whispering powers to figure out why that is!”

“I still think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of what a detective is…” he tugged awkwardly at his collar. “B-but the title is. Being reserved, I think.”

“For who?” Kaede asked.

Saihara looked down in shame. “The headmaster’s daughter, I think.”

“Well, Saihara-san!” Gokuhara exclaimed. “You're still the best detective Gonta knows!”

He smiled weakly. “Thanks, Gonta-kun,” he didn't bother to add that he was probably the only detective that the larger boy knew. “What about you? Do you know anything about how you came here?”

“Oh! Well, you see…” he adjusted his glasses. “They couldn't find Gonta!”

“Huh?” Yumeno asked, turning a lazy eye towards him. “Whaddya mean by that?”

“They said they couldn't locate Gonta until after they sent out main course invitations…” his expression dropped imperceptibly. “So… Gonta would have been in the… main course…” His shoulders sagged, and Yonaga gave him an uncertain pat.

“So… what are we supposed to do with this information?” Harukawa asked. Kaede was tempted to ask her why she had been the subject of a second consideration, but her eyes were so clouded over that it made beads of sweat roll down the back of her neck. She decided that she would save the question for another time.

Amami stared off into the distance. “I mean, it definitely explains why the rest of the reserve course kids are so wary. Doesn't it? We’re practically Super High School Levels in all but actual titles. We're not them, but we’re also not in the Main Course, either.”

“...Talent purgatory!” Shirogane blurted out.

“... Excuse me…?”

Shirogane blinked before responding, “Oh! Like how we’re all kinda talented! But how we’re kinda not… we’re kinda… stuck in the middle…”

“It’s like…” Saihara murmured. “Limbo, really.”

Uncomfortable, uncertain glances were shared throughout the room.

No one was sure what to make of that.

 

Momota had garnered several strange looks as he attempted to follow Hoshi through the labyrinthine halls of the reserve course, eventually reaching the courtyard outside. He couldn't see the expression on the other boy’s face, but he knew that it was clouded over and stormy. He had been acting strangely for a while - everyone knew why, but no one had the guts to bring it up directly to him. Somehow, Momota had been selected as the “person in charge of making sure Hoshi doesn't kill himself”, as Harukawa so sympathetically put it. He suspected that he had gotten chosen because of his motivational abilities - he liked Hoshi, sure, but he was a real piece of work sometimes.

Panting, he tried to keep up with him - for a short guy, he sure was fast. “Hoshi-kun, wait up…!” He wheezed. “Where are you- where are you going?”

Hoshi abruptly stopped and turned to face him upon hearing the sound of his voice - they were standing in front of a large building Momota didn't recognize, though it didn't seem as though Hoshi had intentionally been heading there. “...Momota. Hi,” he eventually spoke, his face tinged with sheepishness (among other things he couldn't quite place). He shrugged. “It was hot in there.”

Momota withheld a few choice statements about how he had just up and left in the middle of class. Trying to catch his breath, he let out a sigh. “You can't just… I mean… Look, Hoshi-kun. Are you doing alright?” Hoshi raised an eyebrow (or he would have if he had one, it just looked kind of weird without one). “Everyone’s kinda worried about you… I’m worried about you. You know what you gotta do? If stuff gets ya down, you gotta get up and fight it! Power your way through!” He clenched his fists, an earnest expression on his face.

Hoshi let out a breath. “I… I am feeling a little bit better, lately.”

“Really?” Momota’s grin was infectious, and Hoshi’s look even softened a little. “That’s great, man! You just gotta fight on!”

“Okay. Fight on, then.”

“Yeah! F-”

And then the world suddenly collapsed.

It happened so quickly - one moment the two of them were just standing there, and the next, the nearby building burst into an awful symphony of fire and light. Rubble flew into the atmosphere, sending Momota backwards and causing the lightweight Hoshi to hurtle through the air like he had been launched into space. As Momota tried to shield his face from the debris, he heard a distinct _thud_ in the distance - most likely the other boy.

People flooded out of what remained of the building, and Momota staggered to his feet. Blinking, he ran to where he had heard the sound, and managed to find Hoshi - who had definitely seen better days. He managed to help him to his feet.

“Are you okay?!”  
  
“You know what? Remind me to never say anything positive ever again.”

 

News of the bombing spread through the Reserve Course faster than any normal gossip had before. Rumors flew from every direction at the speed of light - there were talks that it was a terrorist attack, or a revolt against the Main Course, or that it was aliens (though did anyone really believe that last one?).

Eventually, however, the circumstances surrounding the bombing were cleared up- as much as they could be, at least. Three Main Course students had been expelled, and an additional suspect was suspended until further notice. The real bomber remained at large, as far as anyone could tell.

There was a day after the bombing when nothing in particular happened. For the Reserve Course, everything proceeded as normal, despite the frenzy occurring in the Main Course. Testing was moved, but it didn’t particularly affect any of them. It was like being in a plexiglas dome in the middle of a forest fire - unaffected by the heat and the flames, but still in full view of them. People went about their business. The attack was not a clear and present danger.

At least, not present yet.

Yumeno had joined Kaede and Harukawa on their walk to class the morning after the uneventful day. They hadn’t planned it, but she had been loitering outside of the dorms. As always, Kaede had been the one to suggest walking together - Harukawa was too asocial to suggest such a thing, and Yumeno too lazy. Still, they were making the trip together, Yumeno telling them some stories about “magical experiences” that she’d had. It was a peaceful morning.

They were the first to arrive at the classroom that day, and Kaede nonchalantly pushed the door open - but what she saw made her eyes widen.

The reserve course classrooms were average classrooms - not as advanced as the ones in the main building, but still fairly decent. Remnants of chalk usually stained the board, and the desks had little epithets carved into them by 1R students from the distant past. But on that day, the room sparkled. It was absolutely spotless, everything in its proper place. The chalkboard was so clean that Kaede could practically see her reflection in it, and the books had all been neatly stacked.

Behind Kaede, Yumeno rubbed her eyes. “Ehh… am I lucid dreaming, again?” she asked. Harukawa seemed unconcerned, but raised an eyebrow at Yumeno’s statement.

“No, I’m seeing it too…” Kaede said. “I wonder why it’s so clean? I mean, I know there’s a janitor, but it’s never been quite like this.”

Harukawa scoffed. “Hm. Maybe…”

“Good morning, all,” Came a soft, firm voice from behind them. The trio of girls turned to see Kirumi Toujou, her uniform as impeccable as ever. She smiled gently, her gaze softening in her exposed eye.

“Good morning, Toujou-san!” Kaede greeted.

Yumeno blinked wearily. “I didn’t know ya decided to clean the classroom. Didja get any sleep?”

Giving Yumeno a confused glance, Toujou put her gloved hands behind her back. “The classroom? I-” She suddenly looked past Kaede into the room, and seemed to tense up at its shining cleanliness. “I did nothing of the sort. This is… very odd, indeed.”

“I didn’t do it,” Harukawa stated bluntly.

“Uhh… maybe we were visited by Brownies in the middle of the night?” Yumeno muttered.

“No, they definitely weren’t Brownies!”  
  
“I wasn’t talking about the desserts. Brownies are benevolent house faeries, and-” She suddenly looked up. “Wait. Who said that?”

The four girls looked around at each other in confusion, until the voice spoke up again. “Good morning!” It said, coming from Kaede’s left. She turned, and was met with a woman. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I just wanted to tidy the place up. After all, I’m going to be spending a lot of time here teaching!”

Toujou visibly stiffened.

“But… you’re not our teacher,” Kaede tried to reason. “Onohara-sensei is our teacher, he’s been our teacher for the whole year.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Harukawa muttered.

The woman put a hand delicately to her mouth. “Ah, I’m afraid there were complications. For the foreseeable future, I’ll be your teacher.” She smiled a warm smile, that for some reason made shivers crawl down Kaede’s back. “It’s nice to meet you! My name is-”

She wasn’t expecting Toujou, the most proper and polite person she knew, to interrupt.

“Chisa Yukizome…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who even is Soshun Murasame? I ain't know him
> 
> We have some extra notes on this chapter! To avoid cluttering up this section, we put em in a pastebin. Check it out here: http://pastebin.com/Tan2pJaR
> 
> Also, congrats to the one or two people who hit the nail squarely on the head in comment theories!! (are we that transparent?)
> 
> sou (gonta) notes:  
> i was really disappointed by the fact that there was not a single scene in ndrv3 where something exploded and someone was sent flying into the air like a beautiful discus
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes:  
> don't worry guys it's all fun times with chisa and 1R from here : )
> 
> (As usual, comments are always cherished and appreciated!)


	5. Overripe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy valentine's day! Take the time to cuddle up with your S/O. Or, if you're like me, to eat garbage all by yourself and cry. Either way, we hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Sorry about this one taking so long! It definitely wasn't one that wrote itself. But 11 days, 9 pages, and almost 4500 words later, here we are.

The woman - who was apparently named Chisa Yukizome - blinked twice, looking at Toujou. She nodded rapidly. “Yep that’s me! Looks like I have a fan here, huh?”

Toujou went quiet after that.

Their new teacher clapped her hands once, a gentle smile on her face. “Now, why don’t you go sit down? Class doesn’t start for another ten minutes, and we still have to wait for everyone else to get here. Hopefully, none of them are cutting class!” She laughed politely, seeming oblivious to the strange looks that the four girls were giving her. Hesitantly, they trudged their way over to their desks, giving each other wary glances.

The rest of the class arrived in spattered bursts - some came in groups, while others entered the classroom on their own. They all seemed to have a similar, cautious reaction to Yukizome’s sudden appearance (and to a lesser extent, the disappearance of their own previous teacher). Amami narrowed his eyes, Yonaga looked like she was about to say something but stopped herself short, and Hoshi didn’t even give her a passing glance. The atmosphere had grown chilly and uncertain, as everyone waited for someone to make the first move towards their new teacher.

As it turns out, none of them even had to, as she parked herself in front of the teacher’s desk with a confident grin on her face. “Good morning, class!” She announced. There were a few scattered “Good morning”s in response, and she took that as her cue to proceed. “My name is Chisa Yukizome. From here on out, I’ll be your new teacher!”

“Uh, what about Onohara-sensei?” Kiibo stammered, voicing what everyone was thinking. Their previous teacher wasn’t exactly a memorable person, but for him to vanish without a trace and be replaced by this absurdly sunshiny woman was a rather strange occurrence. 

Yukizome merely sighed. “He’s been called away on some personal business, I’m afraid. So I’ll be standing in for him!” 

No one voiced the fact that there was little personal business a reserve course teacher could have that would warrant being called away from their class.

“Chisa Yukizome…” Shirogane pondered, whispering to Chabashira next to her. “Where have I heard that name before?”

Chabashira shrugged. Before she could answer, though, their new teacher interjected.

“Well, I  _ was _ the Super High School Level Housekeeper back when I attended Hope’s Peak. Word gets around easily, you know! And, well… I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, so now I’m back here!” She struck a triumphant pose, seemingly oblivious to the fact that everyone’s blood had chilled in their veins at the mention of the main course. 

“...So you were a main course teacher?” Momota asked, rubbing his chin. Yukizome eagerly nodded, but there was a certain strange look in her eyes that none of them could place. 

“Yes! I taught some very talented students. But…” She pointed a finger at the group, who simply stared at her in anticipation. “Talent doesn’t mean anything here! After all, if you work hard enough, anything is possible!”

Had the statement come from someone like them, a common man or someone who had also been rejected from the main course, it likely would have had more of an impact. However, as it was spoken by someone who was a product of the machinelike nature of the main course, her words felt hollow. Almost mocking, in spite of her almost certainly good intentions and how positively she phrased it. No one replied, glancing around suspiciously at anything in the room that wasn’t Yukizome. 

The quiet didn’t seem to be the reaction that she wanted, so she quickly changed the topic. “We’ll be following the same curriculum as you were following beforehand, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble if you weren’t having any before. Of course, I’ll be throwing in a few of my own extra-special touches, but those should be fun!” She clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. “I look forward to working with all of you!”   
Silence. Gokuhara adjusted his glasses, Yumeno stuck her lip out, Hoshi fiddled with his earring. There was a moment of uncomfortable nothingness as Yukizome tried desperately to gauge their reactions, almost begging them to throw her some kind of bone.

The quiet was broken by a loud scoff - upon further investigation, the one who had made the noise was Iruma. She had put her feet up on the desk, and was leaning back in her chair in such a way that she was precariously close to injury at any given moment. “Oi, Yukizome,” She muttered, surprising the rest of the class with the fact that she didn’t have any sort of strange nickname to mock her with. “Listen. Iunno what kinda shit they do in the main course, but that bullcrap isn’t gonna fly around here! Those lazy fuckers can barely tell up from down, I tell ya. Like that piss yellow guy, that uncircumcised dickhead!” Smug, she leaned back even further in her chair. “Anyone could tell you that.”

Before any of them could react, Yukizome moved at lightning speed towards Iruma’s desk. Her motion was a blur, and she moved with the speed expected from a SHSL Track Star rather than a SHSL Housekeeper. She had removed two blades hidden somewhere in the back of her skirt, and slammed them down with a hard  _ thunk _ into Iruma’s desk. Iruma let out an “-Eep!” and fell onto the floor, practically upskirting herself. “H-hey, what was that for?” She whimpered, tears forming in her eyes as she tried to scramble to her feet. 

Yukizome’s face remained placid. “It’s not nice to gossip, you know,” She said, still smiling.

Everyone else flinched, staring at the scene. “Ehhh?! The main course sent you here to kill us, didn’t it!” Chabashira shouted, adopting a fighting stance. “Tenko won’t stand for that!”

“Hey, what was that?!” demanded Ouma, his snide facade broken for once. Gokuhara, sitting in the back, nearly fainted from the sudden violence. Momota had to jostle his arm to get him back to normal, and even then he seemed rather nervous and out of it for the rest of the class. 

“Huh? Ah, uh…” She pulled the knives out of the desk, looking particularly embarrassed. “Hm, this seemed to work in my other class. I’m very sorry! I’m still getting used to this, you know. Just give me time.” 

Everyone else merely looked at one another. Chabashira settled back into her seat, though she still looked on edge. Iruma got back up, casting death stares at her classmates who were concernedly looking at her. 

Yukizome slammed her hand on the teacher’s desk. “Now, then. Let’s get to work!”

 

The first day of class passed without too much conflict - everyone managed to get their work done under their new instructor’s watchful eye. The tension in the room was still thick, but it did let up a little as time went on. By the end of the day, the initial awkwardness had faded somewhat, and there was a healthy chatter among the students as they walked out of class.

Kaede was about to leave herself, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Akamatsu-chan,” She heard Yukizome say, “Do you have a moment?”

“Me? Yeah, I do,” Kaede responded, a few small worries running through her mind. “What is it?”

“Well…” Yukizome scuffed the soles of her shiny black shoes on the tile floor awkwardly. “I feel as though I may have gotten off on the wrong foot with a lot of your classmates. I’ve never taught a reserve course class, and… well, is there anything I can do better?”

Kaede pondered this for a minute, before responding with an earnest answer. “I think you’re doing a good job, Yukizome-sensei,” She smiled, and the tension seemed to release from her teacher’s shoulders. “Everyone in class just takes a while to warm up to new people, that’s all.”

Yukizome’s expression softened considerably, and she bowed a little. “Really? Thank you so much, Akamatsu-chan! I’ll try my best from now on!” She smiled at her before shutting the classroom door behind her.

And in spite of what had happened on the first day, Kaede truly did believe that things would get better. 

 

The next day passed without much conflict - it was quite like a normal school day, in fact. Lesson plans were made and rolled out, and things were learned. Unlike the day before, people seemed more at ease with each other, and even with Yukizome. It was actually kind of nice - Yukizome seemed more attentive than their previous teacher had been, and the lessons flowed well.

But, of course, nothing gold can stay.

On the third day, Yukizome had assigned everyone to some sort of strange team-building activities. They seemed rather futile - didn’t the class function well as a unit already? - but Yukizome insisted that they worked on her old class, that she taught in the main course. No one was quite sure what to make of that, but they went along with it anyway.

All was well, until Yonaga piped up. 

“Miss Chisa!” She exclaimed, a curious smile on her face. “Angie can’t help but notice that you talk about your old class a lot. What were they like?”

Kaede noticed a few people - specifically Iruma, Kiibo, and Ouma - give Yonaga a warning look. Still, she grinned as Yukizome’s face lit up with a strange sense of nostalgia. 

“Ah, Class 77-B! They’re a great bunch of kids, really.” Deep in thought, Yukizome put a hand to her cheek. “Well, there’s Pekoyama-chan. She doesn’t talk that much, but she’s more skilled at combat than anyone I’ve ever seen!” At that statement, Harukawa let out a breath, and Chabashira’s eyebrows upturned in concern. Yukizome did really seem to care about her other students, but she was oblivious to the strange feeling that had begun to creep back into the class. It was odd how her good intentions were lost on the others.

“It seems like Iruma-chan is already familiar with Souda-kun. He has a real gift for machines…” It seemed as though Iruma was ready to say something, but Kiibo slapped a hand over her mouth and all that came out were muffled noises. “And I can’t forget Nanami-chan, the class rep. She’s a great leader! She managed to bring the whole class together!” An unreadable look passed over Ouma’s face like overcast clouds, but if he had anything to say, he withheld it. 

“Oh, and Tsumiki-chan and Saionji-chan!” Yukizome continued. Before she could sing whatever praises she had about the two of them, Shinguuji politely raised one bandaged hand. The teacher looked at him inquisitively.

“It may not… be my place to say this. But I believe that I’ve seen the two of them on campus from time to time. And I don’t think the treatment I see between them is admirable - it borders on abuse, actually. And I don’t believe that’s admirable.” He folded his hands and closed his eyes, expression unreadable under his mask.

Yukizome wrung her hands uselessly. “Ah, I don’t really think it’s  _ that _ much! Saionji-chan just likes joshing Tsumiki-chan a little, that’s all. They’re really good girls!” The furtive glances being exchanged throughout the class conveyed that they all thought otherwise, though none had the guts to say it. “There’s also Kuzuryuu-kun, who-”

“Does… Kuzuryuu ever mention anything about his sister?” Hoshi muttered, surprising everyone around him.

“Kuzuryuu-kun has a sister?”

“It’s… never mind. It’s nothing.” And he returned to being silent. 

The tension in class from the first day had returned in full force, and Yukizome looked as though she were trying her best to weather it. She glanced around the room awkwardly, trying to find a way to change the topic. “Enough about my stuff, though!” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get back to work, okay?”

The class seemed to relax somewhat as she continued. “Now, who can tell me the electron configuration of-”

 

A few of the Class 1R students had been discussing going somewhere after school that day. Toujou had suggested going to a cafe, and Yumeno had jokingly said that they should go bowling, but they had eventually decided on karaoke at Momota’s request. Kaede was part of the karaoke group, along with Shirogane, Ouma, Gokuhara, and Harukawa (whom Momota was dragging along despite her complaints). Everyone else had either declined due to being busy or just didn’t answer. 

As everyone was packing up their bags for the day, she noticed Shirogane going over to Shinguuji. “Hey, Shinguuji-kun. Do you want to come with us? You kind of remind me of one of those mysteriously niche shoujo characters, and they always have nice voices!” 

“Of… of what?”

She adjusted her glasses. “Ah! Remind me to introduce you to shoujo manga sometimes. It’s culturally significant.” 

Shinguuji resumed shoving his books into his bag. “I appreciate the offer, Shirogane-san. I’m a bit busy, you see. I have to go to the hospital.”

“The hospital? Are you dying, Shinguuji-kun?” Ouma wondered. “If you are, I’ll have Saihara-chan make an autopsy for you!”   
“...No, you won’t,” was all that Saihara said in response. Ouma cackled. 

“I’m quite alright, Ouma-san.” Shinguuji put a hand to his cheek. “Nee-san has been very ill lately - she’s in the hospital, not me.” Quickly, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed towards the door. 

“I hope your sister feels better soon!” Kaede called after him, and he stopped short in the doorframe. 

“...Thank you, Akamatsu-san,” he murmured before leaving, his silky hair fanning out behind him. 

As the karaoke gang all left to go out, she couldn’t help but wonder about Shinguuji and his sister.

 

Shinguuji didn't come to class the next day. Practically everyone thought it was unusual - he was definitely one of the more scholarly, straightlaced people in the class. Kaede was actually pretty sure he’d had a perfect attendance record beforehand. His absence was actually somewhat noticeable, as his mysterious presence was completely flushed out from the classroom. 

Yukizome arrived a little late, snapping her cell phone closed as she hurried into the room. She stuffed it in her pocket and quickly went about getting out her books. 

Gokuhara raised his hand, his eyebrows raised in concern. “Erm… if it’s alright if Gonta asks, where is Shinguuji-san?”

“Shinguuji-kun is sick today, I’m afraid,” Yukizome’s expression softened, but not in a way that was directed at any of the people present. “He should be back soon! If not, I’ll definitely keep you all updated, hm?” Seemingly sated by the explanation, Gokuhara nodded and lowered his arm. 

“Sorry I'm taking too much time to get set up, just give me a minute.” Yukizome looked to the class expectantly. “While you're waiting - has anything interesting happened to any of you lately?” 

There were a few responses. Harukawa looked indignant and declined to talk about what she had been doing recently, but Shirogane launched into a discussion of preparations she was making for a convention she was hoping to go to, and Toujou mentioned that she had secured a job offering domestic help. Kaede was about to talk about a concert that she was trying to attend, when she was suddenly interrupted by Amami. 

“Something… kinda weird happened to me.” He said, twisting one of his earrings. Everyone glanced over at him, and Yukizome raised an eyebrow before he continued. “I signed up for some study that Hope’s Peak was doing, so that I could earn some extra money or something. They were looking for reserve course students, and I didn't have anything better going on, so I thought I'd sign up.” Amami shrugged. “But I got rejected.”

“Hm… I didn't know Hope’s Peak did voluntary studies,” Kiibo pondered. 

What none of the class had noticed was that Yukizome’s expression had changed from curiosity to suspicion. She rested her hands on the teacher’s desk, the setting up of her lesson forgotten for the moment. “The study, Amami-kun… do you know what it was called?” 

“Uhh, I think so. The… ugh, it was something with a K. Kitayama? Kobayashi?” 

“...Kamukura?” Yukizome muttered, barely audible. Amami nodded, the normally placid expression on his face replaced with one of vague concern. 

“Yeah, what about it?” 

“Amami-kun. Do you know what they were doing in this study? Did they ask you to do anything?” Her voice was gravely serious, causing everyone to look at one another in suspicion. 

“Erm… no? They just interviewed me, and that was the end of it. They gave the spot to some other guy. That's all I know.” 

“And what did they ask you in this interview?”

“Hey, stop interrogating Amami-chan!” Ouma barked, looking infuriated. “That's Saihara-chan’s job!”

Saihara tugged at the collar of his uniform. “...No, it isn't.” 

“Amami already said that he doesn't know anything.” Hoshi glowered. 

Yukizome bowed her head in shame. “You're… you're right. I'm sorry, Amami-kun. It was out of line for me.”

“It's okay, Miss Chisa!” Yonaga piped up, but no one else seemed to share her sentiments. 

Yukizome tried to start the lesson, but the layers of tension were near impenetrable for the rest of the day. 

 

There was a rare free period that day, and Yukizome ducked out of the room, stating that she was going to ask her superiors about something. The rest of the class was left to their devices. 

There was a moment of silence, before Iruma let out an exaggerated sigh. “This SUCKS!” She moaned, overdramatically placing a hand over her forehead. “That old guy who taught us before may have been a fuckin’ weirdo, but at least he didn't threaten us with  _ swords _ !” 

“Gonta doesn't think she's that bad…” Gokuhara started, and Yonaga nodded in agreement. “She's very nice, and Gonta thinks she tries.” 

“Feh! If  _ this _ is the kind of teaching that works in the main course, Tenko isn't sure she wants to meet any of the main course students!” Chabashira chimed in. 

Kaede tried to defend her, despite the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that her classmates were probably right. “You guys… I agree with Gonta-kun. I do think she's trying her best.” 

“Ehhh… I don't know,” muttered Yumeno. “Is she?” 

“If even Yumeno-chan is questioning that, we know she isn't! Yumeno-chan barely tries at all!” Ouma noted. Yumeno bopped him on the head with her hand and huffed in indignation, but didn't disagree. 

“I just don't understand.” Momota mumbled. “I mean, I agree with her that ya don't need to have talent to succeed, right? But I don't think she's the right person to be saying that. She has talent, after all. She's probably never not had it.” Kaede tried her best to disagree with that, but couldn't find a rebuttal. 

“I mean, we should probably grin and bear it, right? I don't think there's anything we can do.” Shirogane prodded her fingers together. There were mumbles of agreement from their classmates. 

“No!” Ouma shouted, getting out of his chair. As everyone watched, he moved to the front of the room and climbed up on the teacher’s desk. “The time is now, students of 1R! Let's start a revolution!”

“Yeah. No.” Hoshi said. 

“Ouma-san, get down from there.” Toujou sounded concerned. “You're going to hurt yourself.” 

“Though I may be wounded, Toujou-chan, my pride will never falter! Hah!” Ouma kicked his leg up, promptly slipped on a book that Yukizome had left on the desk, and landed on the floor in front of everyone. “...I planned that.” 

“That's a lie, isn't it…” Saihara muttered. Ouma just grinned. 

Hoshi rubbed his temples. “This is why they gave the SHSL Class President title to that other guy. Hmph.”

They laughed, although the laughter quickly stopped when Yukizome reentered the room. The rest of the free period - and the class - was spent in the quiet. 

 

Shinguuji came back the next day. Though he appeared healthy, there was something different about him. The healthy shine that his hair normally possessed was all but gone, and his cadmium eyes (typically used to observe others) were cast downward towards the floor. When Kaede entered the classroom, Gokuhara and Toujou were sitting near him - the former awkwardly patting his shoulder, the latter speaking to him in hushed tones. Everyone else kept giving him concerned glances, but no one said a word. 

Shinguuji didn't look up as Kaede approached, but she did it anyway. “Um… is everything okay, Shinguuji-kun?” She asked, prodding her fingers together. 

He didn't respond, but Toujou motioned for her to lean in towards her. When she complied, she whispered in her ear. “Shinguuji-san’s sister… died yesterday. He's not feeling well.” 

“Oh, god…” Kaede muttered in response, before straightening up and speaking directly to Shinguuji. “I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” 

He muttered something and shook his head no. Gokuhara gave Kaede a warm, sympathetic smile, which she returned before realizing that Shinguuji was still sitting there. As she took her seat, a few of her other classmates began to trickle into the room, each offering their condolences. All Hoshi had to say to him was “Welcome to the club.” 

The strange, sad silence was still present in the room when Yukizome arrived, her wide smile immediately out of place in the room’s atmosphere. “Good morning, class! Today I have a special-” as she scanned the classroom, she stopped short. “Oh… Shinguuji-kun, you're back. Are you feeling alright?”

No response. Yukizome walked over to him, and Gokuhara hesitantly took his hand off his shoulder as she approached. Delicately, she leaned over the edge of his desk to try and look him in his eyes. 

“I know you're really going through a hard time right now, Shinguuji-kun. And I can understand that, I've been through hard times myself.” She closed her eyes, as if remembering. “But,” Yukizome stated matter-of-factly, “In times like these, the best thing you can do is to keep your chin up. You get that, right?” Shinguuji blinked, which seemed to be good enough of a response for her. “Well, keep fighting! You'll feel better soon, and I'll be with you every step of the way.” 

Shinguuji cast a limpid state at her, before turning away and choking out an “Okay”. Yukizome smiled, believing that her work here was done. 

“Anyway, I have an announcement to make! I'm sure it'll make you feel better.” Everyone seemed to inch a little closer in anticipation. “Next week, we’ll be taking a day off!”

There were scattered cheers, but Yukizome wasn't finished. 

“We're going to go watch the main course exams!”

Everyone stopped dead. Slowly, they all began to process what Yukizome was proposing. “I mean, they're open to the public, aren't they? I think it would be fun!” 

“I'm not sure that's the best idea-” Saihara began politely, but he was quickly interrupted. 

“Are you serious?” Iruma demanded. Yukizome nodded, smiling. “This sucks!” Yukizome’s smile began to fade. 

“Ehh.. are you only doing this because you want to see your old class, Yukizome-sensei?” Yumeno rubbed her eyes, somehow completely unphased by the newfound development. 

Yukizome shook her head fast. Too fast. “No, that’s- that's not it at all! I just thought it would be fun to go as a class, that's all. To see people perform their talents, and-” She was quickly drowned out by grumbling. “Ahh, you guys’ll come around by next week. I'm sure of it! But for now, let's do some actual work.” 

 

Kaede spent the rest of the day watching the hands on the clock go through their insufferably slow rotation, but snapped out of her daze when someone put something down on her desk. Harukawa had slid a small piece of paper onto it, given her a furtive glance, and returned to paying attention to the teacher. Kaede unfolded the paper and was greeted with round, bubbly handwriting in purple gel pen ink. 

_ All of you - meet me behind the reserve course gym tonight. I have something I want to say.  _

_ Pass it on. _

_ — Ouma  _

If the signature and the ink didn't alert Kaede to the identity of the note’s author, the crude doodle of what she assumed was his face certainly did. Though she normally didn't trust Ouma all that much (who knows how much of what he said was fake?), the note gave off a strange, almost grave air. Hesitantly, she folded it back up and passed it to Momota behind her. 

Though she tried her best to pay attention during class, the note lingered on the edge of her mind. 

 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon and the street lamps had only just flickered on when Kaede made her way to the gym. She'd made the decision to go alone, and occasionally cast looks behind her to make sure that no one was following her. Though she couldn't imagine that she was worth following, the mysterious nature of the event led her to believe that it definitely wouldn't hurt to make sure. 

She soon reached the back of the gym, where the rest of her classmates were gathered. They all appeared pretty tense, though there were a few exceptions - Amami was just examining his fingernails, and Shinguuji didn't look like he  _ could _ be tense anymore. Also, Yumeno was almost falling asleep, but a quick shake of her shoulders from Chabashira brought her back to reality. 

Momota was talking with Kiibo, and he didn't seem all too pleased about their current situation. “Y’know, I don't think I would have minded if she were honest about wanting to go to the testing to see her old class. I would have been okay with it - not happy, but okay.” 

“That’s true…” Kiibo murmured, hand on his chin. “I still don't trust this, though. If Ouma-san’s behind this, it's sure to be-”

“Sure to be what?”

Kiibo yelped and almost jumped ten feet off the ground at the sudden sound of Ouma’s voice behind him. The boy laughed, and everyone’s attention turned to him. “Aw man, I totally got you~!” He snorted, before adopting a more “professional” pose. 

“Ouma-san, that wasn't funny!” Kiibo stammered, but it was clear from Iruma’s sniggering that she thought otherwise. 

“Aww.. Kiibo doesn't like me! I'm wounded!” Crocodile tears started welling up in Ouma’s eyes. 

“What is this, some kind of manzai comedy routine?” Harukawa grumbled, impatiently tapping her foot. “You gathered us here for a reason, right? So don't waste my time.” Toujou nodded in agreement, and Kaede herself followed suit. 

Ouma sighed. “Right, right. So you know that testing thing Yukizome-sensei brought up? Well, we’re going to stick it to the man and start a revolution! Screw that!”

“You mean that we’re going to skip out?” Saihara asked. 

Ouma smiled. “No, of course not! We're not going to do that.”

“And why not?” Chabashira demanded. 

“Because… you see, I have a plan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short disclaimer: Both of us do really like Chisa, and she really is trying her best. We don't mean to antagonize her at all! But her teaching strategies do NOT work at all on a class full of jaded reserve course students. She's really not an antagonist or a bad person at all here, just... ineffective.
> 
> So what's Ouma up to?
> 
> sou (gonta) notes: shinguuji has evolved into sadguuji. the metamorphosis is complete. atone for your crimes in-game by being SAD in this au!!!!  
> (also using this space for some shameless self promotion - i made a [twitter](https://twitter.com/gontabugmail), so if you want you can talk to me about v3 and fic stuff there. Also, I have [another big fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9684491/chapters/21864581) going on, which you should check out! contains v3 spoilers tho)
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes: The next chapter is one I've been waiting on for a loooooooooong time.
> 
> (We always love getting comments. Please comment. Blease)


	6. it's just a prank bro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, everyone! This is probably the longest chapter so far.  
> It's also one that I guess you _could_ skip if you want to, but... do you really want to?  
>  Also, fair warning: Everyone is an asshole in this chapter. Literally everyone.

“You want to _what_?” Harukawa demanded, eyebrow raised incredulously at Ouma’s proclamation.

He merely shrugged in response, his smile still shining with a mischievous light. “I want us to sabotage the main course testing! Come on, it'll just be a prank.”

The moment he made his proposal, all eyes in the room (though they weren't in a room, just behind the gym) turned towards him. He had the attention of every one of his classmates, and was relishing the newfound reverence. In reality, no one revered him, but his idea was enough to pique everyone’s interest.

But Kaede really wasn't having it.

“No, we’re definitely not doing that!” She blurted. “Ouma-kun, I don't think that's right…”

Ouma appeared to consider her objection for a brief moment, but almost immediately broke into a toothy grin. “It's not right, you're definitely correct about that. But it's funny. So I think we should do it.”

Silence. Kaede watched as Gonta shifted uncomfortably and Toujou folded her gloved hands in front of her. For a moment, no one spoke. The air was thick and muggy with doubt, and no one seemed willing to make the first move towards assent or dissent.

“So… what do ya plan on doing?” Yumeno muttered, rubbing her eyes in a drowsy stupor. “This had better be good… my HP is too low to have been dragged out here like this.”

“Yumeno-chan! If your HP is too low, Tenko will take you to an inn! That's how it is in video games, right?” Chabashira volunteered, causing Yumeno to blush and mutter something incomprehensible.

Ouma shrugged. “Well, I dunno yet. I have some ideas, though. And don't worry! They're all nonlethal.” Everyone seemed to not have much of a reaction to this, which kind of surprised Kaede. Were they expecting it to be lethal? Beside her, Harukawa rubbed her temples. “So? Who's with me?”

“But… but why?” Kiibo stammered, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Iruma. He appeared very unsettled by the idea, in stark contrast to everyone else’s unreadable expressions. “I'm not sure I want to do that…”

“So, let me get this straight,” Ouma folded his hands. “You want to just be a pawn in Yukizome-sensei’s plan? She's just using us to visit her old students, you know. Do you wanna be compliant to that?”

“Well, ya can count me the fuck in!” Iruma called, a grin on her face and a wild look in her eyes. “Normally, I use my inventions to help people, but I'm honestly sick of this bullshit. I'm gonna stick it to the man!”

Ouma smiled. “Nishishi! Thank you, Iruma-chan!” As Iruma winked, he scanned everyone else in the group. “So? Who else is in?”

“N-not me!” Kaede said, quite frankly aghast at the fact that everyone was even considering the possibility. Ouma ignored her and continued to stare at everyone else.

Gonta prodded his fingers together. “Gonta doesn't know… it's not very gentlemanly of someone to do.”

“I'll do it,” Harukawa stated. Her bluntness took everyone aback somewhat, but they shrunk back as she glowered at them. “Don't think this means I like you, Ouma…. but I'll do it.”

Ouma clapped. “Okay, so that's two! Anyone else interested?”

You could have cut the awkward tension in the air with a knife. No one else made a move for a brief moment - they were all too busy glancing nervously at each other.

“I'll… do it, as well.”

The statement was so quiet that for a moment I one was sure who said it, but everyone’s eyes soon turned towards Shinguuji. Though his head was lowered, he had stuck up one bandaged hand. The look on his face was one of dire moroseness, the kind that tugged at your heartstrings.

One by one, people began muttering their assent. Some were distinctly more enthusiastic than others, but soon nearly everyone had gone over to Ouma’s side. All that remained were Gonta, Kiibo, and Kaede herself.

Their new de facto leader raised an eyebrow at the three, as if expecting them to act. Gonta shrugged. “Gonta will… have to think about it, Ouma-san,” he murmured, nervously adjusting his glasses. “Gonta isn't sure that it's right.”

Ouma sputtered. “None of any of the stuff the main course or Yukizome-sensei is doing is _right,_ Gonta-chan! It's about fighting back!”

“Well, um-”

“No, it isn't right!” Kaede crossed her arms huffily. “I'm not doing it. You don't get anywhere in life by messing with other people!”

He stared at her for a minute, before pressing a finger to his cheek. “Yes, you do.”

“I don't know if I-” Kiibo started, but he was quickly interrupted by Iruma.

“Hey, Kiibutt!” She sniggered, her spit flying in Kiibo’s face. He quickly wiped it off as she continued talking. “I got the perfect idea of how we could mess with that piss guy.”

“You did?” Kiibo was sweating at this point.

“‘Course I did! Don't you know? Hyahyahya, I'm a mothefuckin’ genius!” Iruma gave him a thumbs-up, a toothy grin on her face. She yanked him closer to her with her arm around his shoulder, and he let out an exasperated sigh as he gave Kaede a look.

Ouma clapped once. “So it's settled, then! We're really doing this. Tomorrow, we're gonna have a planning meeting.” He stopped to point at Kaede. “You can come if you want, Akamatsu-chan. There's always room for you to change your mind!”

Kaede shook her head. “I don't think I will,” she started, but Ouma continued on.

“Anyway, we’re gonna divide and conquer then.” He smiled. “And from now on, you're all honorary members of DICE!”

“Of… what?” Shirogane questioned, looking pretty lost. Ouma began to explain, but Kaede figured that now was the best time to take her leave. Muttering something about needing to study, she walked briskly away from her still-gathered classmates.

She returned to her dorm a few minutes later, and attempted to do some of the studying that she had mentioned - but her mind kept wandering, returning to Ouma’s plan. She didn't particularly like the main course all that much, but something about it didn't sit well with her. Maybe it was just because she was not a particularly malicious person by nature. Then again, neither was Angie, or Momota, or Shirogane, or even Amami. They likely had their own motivations for going along with it, and the least that Kaede could do was respect that.

Eventually, Kaede gave up on studying. The moon had already risen in the sky, casting a pale light onto the twisting pathways of the Hope’s Peak campus. She took a shower and decided to go to bed. But as she laid awake in her bed, staring up at the featureless ceiling, she couldn't help but wonder what would happen at the main course testing.

Hopefully Ouma wouldn't end up destroying the testing center again… or getting everyone killed or expelled.

She could only hope.

 

For the next several days, Kaede didn’t see hide nor hare of her classmates. It _was_ the weekend, after all, so she didn’t think much of it. She took advantage of the time spent alone, using it to study and practice her music. Reserve course work could be gruelling, and she appreciated the time she had to actually do something that she enjoyed. Still, the antics of the other members of Class 1R were still on her mind. She had a distinctly strange feeling about the whole affair - but in the back of her mind, a morbid curiosity had taken root. She wanted - no, needed - to see how this whole thing turned out.

Once the weekend ended, there were two days remaining before the Main Course testing began. There wasn’t much of a noticeable change in her classmates, but there sure was a change in their teacher. Yukizome seemed to be growing even more cheerful than she normally was, a feat that Kaede would have thought impossible. But if her newly saccharine attitude annoyed the other students, they were clearly far too preoccupied to take note of it. In fact, everyone seemed particularly in-tune - save for Kiibo and Gonta, who still looked as unsure as ever.

Yukizome was clearly looking forward to the testing. And to an extent, everyone else in the class was, too. But it was for an entirely different reason.

 

That Wednesday was a beautiful, sunny day. The reserve course campus was crawling with students as per the usual, but the main course area was nearly abandoned. All of them had already moved to the testing center early on in order to prepare and to allow for the judges to set up. A steady stream of people were filling the venue - not an exceptionally large crowd, but a modest one. The kind of people who could afford to take a day off to observe the pomp and circumstance, or just Hope’s Peak otaku who lived for this kind of thing and who couldn’t afford a reserve course education.

Yukizome had met with the class at the venue’s entrance, looking like a proud mother about to show off her baby pictures. “I'll be sitting with the other teachers,” she stated, pointing to a particular area occupied by a few well-dressed adults. “You all have fun, okay?”

There was a bit of muttered assent in response, and she quickly dashed off. An aura of childlike excitement surrounded her, but it only made dread pool in Kaede’s stomach.

The students started to make their way over to an empty assortment of bleachers. Kaede filed in next to Gonta, who appeared to be releasing every single particle of perspiration contained within his body at that exact moment. Still, he smiled at her and nervously tugged on his tie.

“Hey, Harukawa-chan!” Kaede called to the pigtailed girl, whose expression was as cloudy as usual. “Why don't you sit h-”

Before she could finish, though, who should plop down on the seat next to her but Kokichi Ouma. Almost radiating stink waves, he reclined back and put his hands behind his head. Kaede puffed out her cheeks in a childish pout, to which he returned a toothy grin. There was a look of pride in his eyes, somehow. Still, Kaede turned away from him before he could tell her anything about the work they had done while she had been declining it.

She glanced around at her other classmates - they all looked fine, but there was a sense of anticipation surrounding them. Shirogane quietly bit her nails, Iruma was practically drooling, and Angie, Yumeno, and Chabashira looked like they were about to explode into a giggle fit at any given moment.

A question entered her thoughts, and she turned to Gonta. “So, who’s testing today?” she whispered, causing him to flinch a little in his seat. “Does everyone do it on the same day, or-”

She felt a hand on the back of her chair, and this time it was her turn to flinch. As she whipped around, her blonde hair ended up hitting Saihara in the face. He blinked, and she gave him an apologetic look. “Uhh…” he tentatively began, “I think 77-A tested yesterday, but I don’t really know anyone in that class. 77-B is going today. Except…” He suddenly became pensive.

“Huh? What is it?” Kaede asked.

Saihara nervously ran a hand through his hair. “There’s this one person in their class who arranged for some sort of private testing, so they’re not going to be here. Uhh… the Super High School Level Animator, I think. Mitarai something.”  
Quick as a whip, Shirogane butted into the conversation from where she was sitting. “Mitarai? As in, _the_ Ryouta Mitarai? He _goes_ here?!”

“I guess he does. Why, is he important?” Saihara scratched the back of his neck anxiously.

Shirogane’s eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands together in what could only be described as reverence. “Ryouta Mitarai is one of the finest minds in the anime industry! He made _Buuko-chan_ , _NichiBato_ , and… ooh, a whole bunch of other things!” She waved her hands excitedly. “I had no idea he went here! I have to meet him!”

Ouma playfully bonked her on the head with one hand. “Save that for later, Shirogane-chan! Right now, we’re gonna watch our magnum opus unfold.” A sinister look crossed his face, and Kaede gulped.

“You _did_ say that none of these… pranks are lethal, right?” she asked, nervously tugging at the collar of her uniform.

He smiled. “Nishishi, don’t worry about it! I mean, I’m not sure about the thing that Harukawa-chan was working on, but that’s just because she’s a big old meanie!”

“...Thanks.” Harukawa grumbled from behind them, not sounding particularly interested.

Kaede was about to say something else, but a hush fell over the exam venue as the judges all took their seats on a long table. There were a few of them who she presumed were ex-Hope’s Peak students. The rogue’s gallery of judges included a few plain-looking suited men, a hulking, presumably bored guy covered with freckles, a woman with silky black hair tied up into a high ponytail and eyeglasses, and a man with foreign features who had what appeared to be a naval jacket draped over his shoulders. The last man stood up, a clipboard clutched in his pale hands, and began reading off some rules that Kaede couldn’t quite hear from where she was sitting. A strange feeling overtook her, and it was a few minutes before she realized that it was anticipation. Dread, fear, excitement - all swirled into one.

Ouma squeezed her shoulder with one hand.

And it began.

 

The judge cleared his throat, examining the clipboard as he raised one loosely balled fist to his mouth. “Kazuichi Souda,” he called, turning to look at a large entryway located near the judge’s table. Kaede assumed that the 77B students were waiting somewhere beyond.

A hulking man with the most powerful eyebrows Kaede had ever seen emerged, pulling what appeared to be a tiny red wagon. However, the wagon held a massive machine that she couldn’t even begin to parse. Its surface gleamed under the fluorescent lighting as she aggressively tried to figure out which parts went where and did what. The man was pulling the wagon with only one arm, and it was a miracle that it didn’t break under the massive weight of the machine.

The man stopped, and another guy dashed out from behind the machine. Kaede had initially thought that the first man was Souda, but from the moment she saw this second one, she knew that he was the guy who Iruma had been referring to. His hair was shockingly pink, his eyes beady, and he was indeed wearing a jumpsuit that could only be described, as Iruma so eloquently put it, as “piss yellow”.

“Thankya, Nidai-kun!” He flashed a peace sign at the other guy, who gave him a thumbs up in return before heading back into the entryway. Kaede heard Iruma growl behind her.

The freckled judge shuffled his papers with a distinct look of disinterest on his face, and the female judge adjusted her glasses. “So,” she began, “Souda-kun. Mind telling us what you’ve made for us before you demonstrate it?”

“Don’t mind if I do!” He grinned, exposing a row of razor-sharp teeth. “This is-”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence. The prospect of knowing what the machine even was or what it did was lost to Kaede (as well as everyone in the audience) in one single moment. There was a harsh, creaking noise that sounded like a scream. Then, before anyone could make a move (and how could they, with their hands over their ears in a hopeless attempt to block out the noise), the whole thing caved in on itself. Pieces of sheet metal hit the floor with cacophonous _bang_ s, creating dust clouds and sparks that flew through the air in a symphony of terribleness. When the smoke cleared, Souda was standing there, completely dumbfounded. His whole project had self-destructed before his very eyes, and only the little red wagon remained.

The bespectacled judge blinked once, and then again. As Kaede watched, Souda visibly began to sweat. Awkwardly, he raised his arms to the side and flanked the wagon. “Uhh…” he stammered, “It’s an indestructible wagon?”

Kaede could barely hear the indignant, stern words that the freckled judge had for him over Iruma’s guffawing. She turned around to see her looking as if she were going to pass out at any moment from sheer hysteria, and her eyes narrowed. What she wasn’t expecting, though, was Kiibo looking off to the side.

“Kiibo-kun.” Kaede stated.

He looked at her. “Akamatsu-san.”

“Kiibo-kun.”

“...Akamatsu-san.”

“Is there something you want to tell me, Kiibo-kun?”

Before the roboticist could even respond, Iruma was slapping him on the shoulder as tears ran down her face and spit flew out of her mouth. Kiibo just sighed.

Kaede rubbed her temples.

This was going to be a long day.

 

The remains of Souda’s machine were quickly cleaned up by hurried Hope’s Peak staff, and the head judge was left to pick up the pieces of the rest of the exam. His forehead was beaded with sweat, but he wiped it off as he read the next name. “Hiyoko Saionji.”

Now, this was a name that Kaede recognized. She was that one girl who had been rude on the very first day, wasn’t she? Plus, from what she remembered, she was the one that Shinguuji had chastised for bullying another girl. It was at this point that the pity she was feeling for the students began to recede, pulling back slowly like the tide.

The girl flounced - there was no other way to put it - out into the venue, draped in an outfit that was different from the orange kimono that Kaede remembered. This time, her kimono was colored pale pink with a floral pattern across the fabric and the obi. Her blonde hair was tied back into one banana-shaped pigtail, adorned with several kanzashi hair ornaments. Though her appearance was dainty, she exuded confidence.

She stood precociously in front of the judges, removing a fan from the folds of her kimono. The foreign judge smiled, and motioned to some people standing off to the side. The venue lights dimmed until a single light was shining on Saionji. Music filled the air, and she began to dance.

Her movements were graceful, no one could deny that. She moved as if she were being carried by the wind, but with a certain mastery that even experienced dancers tried and failed to replicate. Her facial expression was one of sheer tranquility as she twirled around and around.

Kaede was so enrapt that she only just barely heard Shinguuji mutter to Momota; “It’s truly a shame that she’s such an abhorrent brat. Otherwise, I would be enjoying this.”

“Dude. Holy shit,” was all that Momota had to say in response.

The performance was going exceedingly well, especially compared to the trainwreck that was the previous test. Kaede nearly forgot that anything could go wrong.

But of course it did.

Midway through her dance, Kaede began to notice something strange about Saionji’s kimono. As she moved, it seemed to get looser and looser, as if it were coming apart at the seams. Saionji noticed this, and grumbled as she continued the routine. Her facade of beautiful calmness was broken, giving her a rough-around-the-edges feel. As her movements became more aggressive and irritated, the kimono unraveled further. Her complaining became louder and louder.

By the end of her performance, she was standing stock-still in the middle of the venue, screaming bloody murder and lobbing obscenities at the entire audience. Her whole outfit had completely fallen apart, leaving her in her underwear. Her arms were tightly folded over her chest, and she was shaking with rage.

The lady judge stared at her. “...Thank you, Saionji-san,” she stated, before the dancer ran back out of the entryway crying. The freckled judge let out a snort. Kaede turned to her left and saw that Shirogane’s glasses were catching the light.

Despite herself, she let out a quiet giggle.

Immediately, Ouma was on her. “Oh? What was that I just heard?” he asked, smirking at Kaede. “Did you just laugh?”  
She immediately went about gaining her composure. “No, I didn’t.”

“Did you?”

“No, I was holding in a sneeze!” She huffed.

“Sure,” Ouma snickered, and Kaede sighed.

 

“Peko Pekoyama” was the next one up, and the exam staff began to set up several wooden dummies around the area. A solitary girl entered the venue, a fabric sheath strapped to her back. Her crimson eyes flickered with a cold fire, and her presence made everyone in the room catch their breaths. In one fluid motion, she removed the sheath from her back, took hold of the fabric with one hand, and used the other to toss it up. As everyone watched, a bamboo practice sword separated from the case, and she caught it with her other hand. Kaede heard Chabashira suppress a gasp.

Pekoyama stood quietly for a moment, and Kaede swore that she could feel a cool breeze rippling through the auditorium. Not a single person spoke.

Then, she lashed out towards a dummy and struck it with her sword…

...Only to have the sword shatter into a million pieces upon impact.

Dumbfounded, she lifted up what remained of the hilt and stared at it with an expression of deep confusion. The silence in the room had turned deeply awkward, as no one made a move to speak.

Kaede’s instincts told her to turn around, and she did - just in time to see Hoshi giving Toujou a fist-bump, which she awkwardly returned. She then shook Harukawa’s hand, the latter’s face remaining as unreadable as ever. “... _Et tu_ , you three?” Kaede sighed, placing a hand on your forehead.

“I think it’d be _et vous_ , then… besides, it was Harukawa’s idea,” Hoshi jabbed a finger in the pigtailed girl’s direction. “I don’t really know how she came up with it, but-”

“And it’s none of your business.” She snapped, causing Kaede to jump back a bit.

They were only three tests in, and everything had already gone to shit. Next to her, Ouma radiated pride.

 

A nervous, wavering girl was the next one up - it was as if at any moment, there would be a slight breeze that would cause her to tip over and shatter against the hardwood floor. Her hair was choppy, and she was covered in various bandages. Kaede’s heart almost immediately broke for the poor girl, and the feeling of dread at whatever her classmates were going to do to her had returned in full force.

But to her pleasant surprise, her bad feelings were unfounded.

As she and everyone else watched, the girl (Mikan Tsumiki, she would later find out) successfully performed a mock surgery in front of the judges. She stuttered while she was talking quite a few times, and almost knocked over a tray of tools, but she completed the test with flying colors. The foreign judge beamed at her as he scribbled some notes, and she smiled shyly in return.

The completely ordinary nature of this test was what made her turn to Ouma for the first time. “You didn’t do anything to her?” she asked quizzically.

Ouma shook his head. “We’re not monsters, Akamatsu-chan. Who do you think we are?”

Kaede tried to find a rebuttal for that, but was quite frankly at a loss.

 

The judges seemed reinvigorated (The freckled judge muttered something along the lines of “I'm just glad at least one of these wasn't a trainwreck,” which got him a smack in the head by another judge), and the female judge was the one to call the next tester this time. The foreign judge passed her the clipboard, and she adjusted her glasses before calling out the next name. “Akane Owari,” she stated, a smile forming on her lips.

Everyone looked towards the entryway… but not a single person emerged.

The judge tried again. “Akane Owari?” she stated again, but it was more of a question this time. Still, there was nothing.

Kaede heard someone sputter. “Oh, my god,” said a voice she recognized as Momota. “Shuichi, I think she actually believed us.”

“Did she…?” Saihara muttered. “Oh… oh, god. We did it. I didn’t even think it’d work, but…”

“Ehh? What did Kaito and Shuichi do?” Angie asked, and Kaede was a little relieved that for once she wasn’t the one asking. “Kami-sama was watching you, but he only tells Angie the important stuff.”

“Well…” Momota began, “We heard some stuff about her eating a lot. So, we told her that there was an all-you-can-eat meat buffet on the other side of town.” He scratched his head, closing his eyes. “We thought we’d have to give her a fake address, or maybe make up a poster for it, but I guess we didn’t even have to do that.”

Kaede suppressed a giggle as she watched the judges down below trying to recollect themselves. The freckled judge was chuckling, while the others simply gave him withering looks in response.

 

“Uh…” The female judge seemed to be very confused in this entire situation, not that Kaede could blame her. “Alright… Sonia Nevermind, then.” Kaede remembered that name - Angie had mentioned her a while back. Sonia Nevermind was the girl who beat out Angie for a spot in the main course.

After a screen and a projector was set up, a girl with platinum blond hair stepped forward. Honestly, the girl seemed to be the embodiment of royalty. The way she walked, the way she talked, and the was she even simply _stood_ reeked of elegance. She bowed to the judges, “Hello, it’s lovely to meet you all. Today, for my exam, I will be showing you a brief history of The Kingdom of Novoselic.” Sonia pressed a small button on the remote she was holding.

Whatever that was, that wasn't any kingdom Kaede had seen. What was on the screen just seemed to be a… poorly drawn, stick figure representation of the princess. Kaede raised her brow. When she looked off at the side, she could see Chabashira, Yumeno, and Yonaga trying to hold in laughter. When she looked back on the princess, she seemed to be sputtering in confusion. The judges all looked at one another. The next slide was titled “How to raise the dead”, Kaede couldn't even read it before it was changed. The one after that was a cat. A picture of a cat that said, “Can I have a cheeseburger?” in… a typo-riddled caption. The judges seemed to get annoyed (except the freckled one, he was openly laughing at this point). The princess just tried to rush through all her slides. The last one was just a white background with giant, mustard-yellow comic sans text that read “Just like Bart!”. The freckled judge put his head down entirely, and he was slamming his fist on the table in a fit of laughter.

It felt like an eternity, but only a minute had passed by in silence. Then, he eventually collected himself, raised himself back up, and sighed. “Thank you for that.” he said.

Red in the face with embarrassment, Sonia walked off.

“What even _was_ that?” Kaede found herself asking the three girls who had revealed themselves to be the culprit.

“Angie-san came up with it!” Chabashira informed her, and Angie nodded.

“Nyahaha, it was kami-sama’s will!”

“Was… it?” Yumeno rubbed her eyes. “I thought it was just internet jokes.”

 

The next test, one for a girl with wild dyed hair who shredded on an electric guitar, went completely fine. Sure, the music she played was eardrum-shattering, but that seemed to have been what she wanted.

Once her performance was over and everyone had recovered from the excessive reverb, Kaede found herself asking Ouma “You didn’t do anything to her?”

“Nah…” He shrugged.

“He said that he was saving her for you in case you wanted to join in on the pranking,” Amami interjected. Kaede sighed, and gave him a half-hearted smack on the head.

What she didn’t want him to know, though, was that she was enjoying this much more than she should have been.

 

“Mahiru Koizumi” was called next - she turned out to be a reliable-looking girl with red hair and freckles. She wheeled out a large chalkboard that was covered by a black sheet. She looked a bit concerned about how her classmates had been doing on the test, but still managed to stand with somewhat shaky confidence.

The bespectacled judge looked like she wanted to get up and leave, but she sighed. “And what will you be showing us today, Koizumi-san?” She questioned, and the girl let slip a brave smile.

“This semester, I’ve been working on a series of photographs detailing the life of the modern Japanese woman. It’s a subject that I feel deserves to be documented. I guess you could call this an anthropological study.”

Kaede felt her chest tighten at the mention of anthropology.

Uh-oh.

Koizumi pulled the sheet off of the chalkboard - and almost immediately froze up. The chalkboard was covered with photos, sure - but they definitely weren’t her photos. Instead, they were what could only be described as creepshots. They were all extremely blurry, and even from a distance, Kaede definitely caught patches of bare skin in them. Everyone in her class collectively turned to Shinguuji as Koizumi tried her best to collect herself down below.

“Where did…” Toujou stammered, “Where did you get those? Did you take them yourself?”

“I got them from the Internet,” he stated, matter-of-factly.

Amami raised his eyebrows. “You know how to use the Internet, Shinguuji-kun?” Shinguuji simply stared at him, and he quickly backed down.

Kaede shook her head, laughing. “All of you are horrible,” she said. “At least Gonta-kun is still on my side.”

Gonta prodded his fingers together, still looking exceedingly distressed. “Erm… yes. Gonta is on your side, Akamatsu-san.”

Hoshi snorted.

The group’s little discussion was interrupted, with perfect comedic timing, by a piercing scream that made Kaede jump in her seat. When she turned back around, she saw that the next test had begun without her realizing it - and had immediately gone sideways. A short- squat fellow wearing a chef’s outfit had taken the stage, and had cut several pieces out of a delicious-looking cake that he was supposed to be presenting. However, as soon as his back was turned, bugs of all shapes and sizes began crawling out of it. He began babbling incomprehensibly, trying to dig himself out of the hole that he was in, while the judges tried to swat the bugs off of themselves. Beside Kaede, Gonta let out a moan.

“Gonta-kun! You too?” She gasped, as the hulking boy looked down in complete and utter shame.

“Gonta was… convinced.” he muttered, staring at his hands as they rested in his lap. “It’s shameful, Gonta knows that…”

“You’ve finally become a man!” Ouma reached over Kaede to slap him on the back. Gonta looked like he was ready to die.

 

A few more tests went by, all equally disastrous, until there was only one student remaining to be tested out of 77B. Two of the judges looked like they had just gone through a war, while the freckled one looked like he had never laughed so hard in his entire life. Likely imagining what was waiting for them after they managed to escape this shitshow, the foreign judge took the clipboard and called the last name.

“Chiaki Nanami?”

The name was one that sounded vaguely familiar. Kaede could see Ouma clenching his fists next to her in expectancy. But when Nanami walked out of the entryway, recognition flooded Kaede’s memory. She had met her on the first day of school, hadn’t she?

There was a video game console set up near a giant screen, and Nanami positioned herself near. She popped a squat on the floor and took the controller in her hand.

“The floor is yours, Nanami-san,” said the bespectacled judge, and Nanami nodded. A retro-style shooter loaded onto the screen, and she began to play.

It became immediately obvious that something was strange. Whenever the girl tapped an arrow on the console’s D-pad, her ship would go in the opposite direction. A sneaking suspicion on Kaede’s mind, she looked over at Ouma, only to find him smiling triumphantly. His pearly white teeth could have blinded a person.

But then, something changed. Kaede could barely make out Nanami muttering “Oh, I see,” to herself before entirely changing her gameplay tactics. She seemed to have figured out exactly what the problem was, and started pressing the opposite buttons. Ouma’s jaw dropped as she quickly worked through the levels of the video game, clearing it in a matter of minutes.

People sitting around the venue began to clap, and Kaede almost started to before something told her that it probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

 

The judges eventually thanked everyone for coming before running out of the room as fast as they could, and the crowds began to disperse. Looking around her, Kaede couldn’t remember the last time she saw everyone in her class having such a good time. Class 1R made their way out of the rows of chairs, and Kaede felt her shoulder get poked by a finger. When she turned around, she was met with Ouma.

He sneered. “You found that funny, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t…” she grumbled, but he only looked more smug. “Okay, maybe I did.”  
  
“That’s the spirit! You’re a honorary member of DICE now, Akamatsu-chan!”

“I don’t even know what that is!” Akamatsu snapped, and everyone laughed.

Despite everything, it had turned out to be a good day after all.

 

Chisa Yukizome stood in the office of the reserve course principal, her hands folded in front of her. When she was transferred from the main course to there, Headmaster Kirigiri suggested that it was in her best interest to have occasional meetings with the principal, just to make sure that everything was going smoothly. At this meeting, however, she felt as though there was a pit in her stomach. The class that she was teaching seemed exceptionally happy since the tests, despite the fact that they had gone so awry. It was an understatement to say that she had her suspicions.

The principal, a brunette woman with a beauty mark, sat at her desk. “So, Yukizome-san,” she said. “Is everything going well? Do you have anything to report?”

Yukizome considered for a moment. She thought about the tests, and then about her Class 77B students - but also about her Class 1R students. How they seemed miserable a lot of the time, and how they had been so cooperative since the tests. What was the right thing to do in this situation? Was there even a right thing to do? Did she turn them in based on nothing but personal suspicion, or let them walk free?

“Yukizome-san?” the principal prompted. Yukizome let out a breath, before speaking.

“Everything’s fine, Ma’am.”

“That’s good,” she leaned back in her chair. “So, nothing to report?”

“I’m afraid not. Everything’s been going alright.”

“I see. Thank you.” Yukizome turned to leave, but the principal wasn’t done. She cleared her throat. “Oh, and by the way. Yukizome-san?”

“Y-yes, Ma’am?”

She smiled. “You’re a very good teacher. I have faith in you.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

But deep down, Yukizome didn’t feel as though her sentiments were appropriate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't it kind of bullshit how Nanami could perfectly do everything she wanted in dr3? We thought so, too. And so does Ouma. 
> 
> sou (gonta) notes: hope you enjoyed this chapter, because the next one is where things start going COMPLETELY sideways. I'm so looking forward to writing it, you don't even know. Hohohohohohoohohoho  
> Also, there were a lot of oc cameos in this! The judge with the glasses, the foreign judge, and the reserve course principal were all DR ocs of mine - Ume Kurofuji, Yvon Bruckhard, and Hanae Urushijima. Dangan Ronpa ocs are very fun.
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes: I feel as if we should note that Shinguuji was initially planned as a neutral party towards the main course before he went the direction of "Fuck the main course".  
> Also the freckled judge is an oc of mine. Yoshi Houjou you absolute fucking asshole
> 
> (We always love getting comments. Please comment. Blease)


	7. The Separate Directions of Four Cardinal Winds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write one of my least favorite dr characters in the entire franchise for this. I hope you're all happy.  
> ...By the way: if you're reading this, and you often write fics, I'd like to make a request of you. There's only so many shipfics/weird fetish smut I can take being in the v3 tag. So, if you have an au idea/idea for an ensemble fic? I implore you, write it for v3. I'll definitely read it. AU fics are my favorite things, and we're lacking in those. Shipping fics are fun, but please, consider.  
> Also, this chapter contains mild v3 spoilers - not for any of the deaths, but for one specific character's backstory. It's nothing endgame (it's actually revealed in ch2), but you know. Just thought I'd warn you.

Time went by, as it always does. The leaves fell from the trees, and winter break went by quicker than a blink - despite being fairly long, it always seemed to pass just like that. By the time that everyone returned to school, an entire new class was being instated - a gaggle of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (and in some cases, bushy-haired) youths who could be well and truly called talented.

Yukizome left Class 1R after several months, her reserve course parole finally coming to a close. “It was an honor teaching you all,” she had told the class as they warily looked on. “Best of luck to you all! And remember; work hard, and you can do anything.”

She had then hurried out the door in a way that completely rid her first statement of any truth that it may have once possessed. No one made a move to speak.

And so it was that their previous teacher returned to them, looking exceptionally tired. Angie had attempted to ask where he had gone, but no one was able to get a straight answer out of him, and the subject was quickly dropped.

This went on, until one particular Saturday - a completely ordinary day for most of the students. Kaede and Harukawa were out shopping, Gokuhara was attempting to tutor Yumeno and Chabashira in science, Hoshi and Shinguuji were off god-knows-where doing god-knows-what.

But something was amiss - a dark feeling lurked below the surface of that day. And it would soon come to the forefront.

 

* * *

 

 

Kokichi Ouma tied his bandana around his neck as he walked. Putting it on felt like reuniting with an old friend - the strict dress codes of the reserve course had relegated him to stuffing it in his jacket pocket most of the time. On this particular day, he had decided to forgo his studying and go off campus.

There was a local arcade that sat not too far from Hope’s Peak - one filled with both old, coin-operated machines, as well as more newfangled touchscreen games. The place always emanated with that inviting neon light expected from arcades, and Ouma always felt at home in the dim glow offered by the machines. As an evil supreme leader/class president who worked from the shadows, darker places suited him. Granted, he couldn't sleep without a light on, but lurking in the shadows was a staple of an evil leader.

On this occasion, Ouma’s mind was on the Dance Dance Revolution machine. His classmates had gathered here a few times before to play, and he found that he had quite the affinity for the game. In fact, he was probably one of the best DDR players in the class, second only to Shinguuji. Even now, he still wasn't sure how that stuffy guy did it. Shinguuji was never a guy who Ouma really talked to, but he'd really begun to heal after the death of his sister. While the self-proclaimed leader was no stranger to stating that he didn't really care about people, it never pleased him to see people feeling bad - especially if they were feeling bad about something he had nothing to do with. They had every right to feel bad about his pranks, just not about other things.

The jingle of doorbells accompanied him as he stepped over the arcade’s threshold, scanning his surroundings for the promised machine. It was sandwiched between the gachapon machines and an archaic Pac-Man console. He started making his way towards it, ignoring the sparse groups of people who were also in the arcade.

But then he saw someone who made him stop in his tracks.

Her back was turned to him, but there was something about her that made his skin crawl with rage. Maybe it was her sleepy posture, or the way that her rosy hair flounced upward, or maybe it was even her backpack that seemed to serve no function other than to look like a cat. But whatever it was, it vexed him to no end. She had positioned herself in front of a machine that had the phrase _Gala Omega_ written on it in flashy pink letters - Ouma assumed that that was the name of the game. He sidled on up to her, trying to get a good look at her - before he remembered in an instant where he'd seen her before.

Chiaki Nanami - the supposed leader of Class 77B, and the girl who Ouma had tried and failed to sabotage during testing - stood right in front of him, closer to him than anyone in the main course had ever been. Her aura of calm drowsiness completely belied the slurry of negative emotions that he felt. He silently watched for a few minutes as she played the game, racking up more points in the short span of time than the game’s developers probably ever intended to be gained by human hands. Eventually, Ouma decided to make contact.

“Hey,” he remarked, “Aren't you Chiaki Nanami?” The question was really quite redundant for him, as it was entirely clear that that's who she was.

The girl didn't turn to look at him, her eyes glued to the screen of the console. Her eyes followed the little pixelated ship that she was piloting as it swerved around the screen. “Uh-huh, that's me,” she said, though her voice had a distant quality to it that reminded Ouma of old camera footage. He waited for her to continue speaking, but she was too absorbed in her game to follow up.

So it was up to him, then. “Do you know who I am, Nanami-chan?” He inquired, pointing a finger at his chin in indication. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, a quiet rage had begun to coil, but he suppressed it for now.

“Uhh… I don't think so, sorry.”

“I'm Kokichi Ouma! Don't you know? I'm the president of the Reserve Course!” He waited for her reaction, but was met with none. She was off in her own little world, barely even acknowledging him. Quick as a whip, he tried to salvage the situation the best he could. “That was a lie,” he blurted, “But I still have a reeeeaaalllyyyy big position of power in the reserve course.”

“Oh… that's nice,” Nanami said. “So you're a class rep, then? I'm the rep for my class.”

“No, we don't have class reps in the… wait, you are?” He sputtered. The drowsy girl nodded.

“Yeah. I was elected because I pulled the class together… I think.”

“You’re the one who… pulled the class together?” Ouma tried to parse this, but his hands were starting to twitch. “By yourself? And no one helped you?”

“Yeah, it's just me. Is there a problem?”

And somehow, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. "Yes, there _is_ a problem! The fact that you guys depend on ONE GODDAMN PERSON to keep the ENTIRE group together is the problem!" He shouted, clenching his fists. It took a lot to get Ouma to get angry about something, but this girl was pissing him off more than anything he could think of. And she still wasn't even looking up from her game!

Nanami didn't respond, though her shoulders became tenser. Ouma continued his spiel. “Is… there anything other than hope bonding your class? Like. If that hope was gone none of you would give a shit about one another. Not to mention do any of you know each other. Like actually know each other as _people_ ? Or do you not know anything outside of their talents?” He recalled Yukizome, who seemed so oblivious to the severe flaws of her students. Her students, who included Nanami. He didn't seem to be eliciting any strong response, so he prattled on. “Here’s why my class is different: We actually don’t need some shitty fake hope to bond! We didn’t bond because our goddamn fucking **_teacher_ ** told us to. It’s because we actually _care_ . We bonded because we’re compatible with one another!” He huffed, and yanked on his bandanna. “Do you _get_ that? Or were you too busy trying to pull everyone together through _video games_ instead of actually getting to know them?”

He could see Nanami’s shoulders slumping, and she turned to him. With her pale, tired eyes, she regarded him. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers still worked the controller.

“You're… kind of distracting me, Ouma-kun,” she sighed, turning back to her game. “Sorry,”

So, then, she had nothing to say. Ouma supposed he should have expected that from her. His plans for the day all but forgotten, he turned on his heel and walked right out of the arcade.

He shouldn't have expected a phony leader to listen to a _real_ leader, anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Angie-san! I don't want us to be late!”

“Hyaaa, Angie’s hurrying the best she can!”

Angie was not someone who often socialized with Tsumugi Shirogane, but the girl had insisted on taking her along with her on her plans for the day. She hadn't told Angie very much about what she planned on doing, but the sparkle in her eyes was almost as bright as the light of kami-sama. Currently, they were walking through the campus, in a direction that Angie had never gone before. Shirogane had taken her by the hand, and was leading her along.

Angie decided that she had the right to know where they were going - she assumed it wasn't to one of Shirogane’s conventions, but other than that she was at a loss for ideas.

“Tsumugiii,” she drawled, trying to catch her breath. “Where are we going?”

The bespectacled girl stopped in her tracks and turned to face Angie. “Huh? That's strange… I could have sworn I told you…”

Angie shook her head, and Shirogane gave her a soft smile. “We’re going to see a friend of mine, from the main course. We've been talking for a while. As an artist, I think you could really stand to learn something from him!”

She was admittedly rather surprised - Shirogane was the last person she would have expected to have made a friend in the main course. Her spacey nature made her a difficult person to socialize with at times, and she wouldn't have thought that any of the main course students would have had the patience to put up with that. But the lord works in mysterious ways, and Angie was happy for her. “Tsumugi’s friend is an artist? Who are they?”

“You've never heard?” Shirogane put a hand to her chin and pensively and closed her eyes. “Oh, right, you're a foreigner. Well, I'll tell you! We're going to see Ryouta Mitarai, the Super High School Level Animator!”

“Ohhh, wow!” Angie put her hands to her cheeks in an exaggerated expression of surprise. She really had no idea who that was, but she was happy for Shirogane. Animation _did_ seem to be something that she was passionate about, after all. “What's he like?”

“Well… he's kind of a quiet guy. A little pudgy, too… oh, but he’s just as passionate about anime as I am!” Shirogane had begun to walk again, and Angie followed suit. “He's made a lot of my favorite series, in fact. _Buuko-chan_ is a masterpiece! You really have to watch it sometime…” she then proceeded to summarize the plot of the show. Angie wasn't sure it sounded like a masterpiece, but her enthusiasm made her happy. “I know where his dorm is, so we're going to surprise him there. I'm sure he'll be excited to meet another artist!”

Angie nodded, a smile making its way into her face. She, too, was excited about the prospect of talking to someone else in her field. Though she wasn't the biggest fan of the main course (no one in their class was), she was always willing to discuss her passions with others.

Shirogane seemed to know the way to his dorm well, and headed immediately to the staircase. Angie struggled to keep up with her as she began to climb it. They went up for several floors, until she eventually turned into a hallway. The cosplayer appeared to be scanning the numbers written on the doors, eventually coming to a stop at a particular one. “Well, we’re here!” She exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. “Angie-san, do you want to do the honors?”

But there was something that made Angie hesitate. There was something odd about that door - she swore that she could hear multiple voices from behind it, as muffled as they were. This wouldn't have bothered her, but Shirogane didn't seem to be expecting anyone else to be in Mitarai’s room. A strange feeling having overtaken her, she gave Shirogane a worried glance. “Angie isn't sure about this, Tsumugi. Kami-sama says there's bad vibes behind that door.”

“Well, maybe kami-sama doesn't have good taste in anime,” Shirogane retorted. Angie didn't have a response to that, so she merely stood agape as Shirogane knocked once. But instead of waiting, she flung open the door. “Mitarai-kuuun! I'm-” she started to exclaim, but she stopped short as she took in the sight that awaited her behind that door. Angie peered in afterward, her heart dropping at the realization that her statement about the strange vibes had been correct.

There was a person sitting on the small bed who matched the description that Shirogane had given, chubbiness and all. However, they were facing another person sitting at a computer who absolutely did not match the description - he was skinny, his face gaunt from evident overwork. He was working feverishly at a drawing tablet, though Angie couldn't see exactly what he was drawing. She heard Shirogane swallow behind her.

Not yet having noticed the interlopers, the larger person sighed. “Mitarai-kun, I keep telling you. You have to take better care of your h-”

“Wh...what is this?”

Shirogane’s query had been so faint that Angie had to strain to hear it. But as soon as she spoke it, everyone in the room stopped dead. The two individuals turned to face her and Shirogane - the one sitting on the bed appeared shocked, while the one sitting at the computer just looked confused. The two spoke at the same time.

“What are you doing here?” The pudgier one stammered.

“Who… are you?” Asked the one sitting at the computer, who Angie presumed was the real Mitarai.

“I asked a question,” there was none of the earlier joy present in Shirogane’s voice. “What… is this?”

“Shirogane-san, I can explain-”

“No, you can't!” She pointed to the person sitting on the bed, who had begun to sweat. “I don't know who you are, but I don't care. You lied to me, didn't you?”

They tugged at their collar, looking as if they were considering blinking a warning to Mitarai in Morse code. “Yes, but-”

She smiled wearily, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “So that's all I need to know, isn't it? Then, thank you,” she began to head out the door, but she quickly turned back and shouted a quick “OH, AND BY THE WAY, _BUUKO-CHAN_ WAS NOTHING BUT TERRIBLE FANSERVICE WITH NO ARTISTIC VALUE!” Before dashing out of the room.

“Shirogane-san!” The person who was decidedly not Mitarai jumped up faster than Angie would have expected from someone of their size, but she blocked the doorway. They stared at her. “...Huh?”

“Angie doesn't know who you are,” she said. “But she knows that kami-sama hates liars and people that hurt Angie’s friends.”

And then she blew a huge raspberry and slammed the door in their face.

 

By the time Angie left the building, she easily located Shirogane. The girl was slumped over on a bench in front of the dorms, looking nearly inconsolable. Unsurely, Angie sat down next to her and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“He… he lied to me, Angie-san,” Shirogane said quietly. “The creator of my favorite anime doesn't even know who I am.”

“Angie knows…”

“Am I a good person, Angie-san?” she hugged her arms tight to her chest. “I'm just so… I'm so plain, and boring. I fade into the background so much that the only people who want to be friends with me are nonpersons.”

“The light of kami-sama is with Tsumugi! Tsumugi is a good person!” Angie declared, though she wasn't sure how to respond to the second part of the statement. Shirogane pushed her glasses up on her nose, but said nothing. Neither of them noticed the sound of approaching footsteps.

“I don't know,” Shirogane sighed. “I just feel so-”

“Yoo-hoo! Hey, you two are a sorry sight. Especially you, four-eyes!” A third voice chimed in, speaking with a distinctive drawl. “Come on! Chin up, dollface!”

And Shirogane _did_ look up, as did Angie. Angie noticed Shirogane’s eyes widen considerably as she took in the interloper.

“Hey, aren't you…”

 

* * *

 

 

Maki Harukawa was used to being followed. Her work as an assassin virtually guaranteed that people were out for her blood, as much as she was out for other people’s. It was an endless cycle of pain and retribution, but she had hardened herself to it. She had also become used to having to look over her shoulder every once in awhile while she walked - it could be to anywhere, even to the bathroom or the grocery store, but that was just the way of things.

But on this particular day, she wasn't being followed by anyone. Her habit was somewhat useless, if anything. The campus was nearly empty, a lot of the Hope’s Peak students having chosen to go home for the weekend or retire to their dorms.

It was the perfect time for what she was going to do.

Her ebony pigtails, nearly ankle length, trailed behind her as she walked. Others in her field regarded this as a bother, and had lopped their hair off long ago. But to her, the fact that she was able to complete her work even with her long hair getting in the way was a testament to her ability. She wasn't going to let anyone take that away from her, not after so much had been taken away from her already.

But this isn't about Maki’s backstory. It's about what was happening to her at that particular moment.

The main course gym was open to anyone on campus, though reserve course students rarely used it. It was a waste in her eyes, she thought as she pushed open the swinging doors. Why offer a state-of-the-art physical education center to untalented people if it was really meant for the talented? For most students, going there would be nothing but a reality check as to their own lack of talent. They would stick to the shoddy reserve course gymnasium. But Maki didn't really care about that. She just wanted to train.

The gymnasium really was a marvel, containing equipment and special training rooms for every sport you could dream of. Soccer, tennis, basketball, even more obscure ones like croquet and squash. Maki wasn't even sure what squash was, but that wasn't something that she was interested in occupying her thoughts with. Instead, she made her way to the weaponry.

Why anyone would build a weaponry in a gym was a mystery to her, but she assumed it was meant for combat training. The walls were lined with firearms and blades, and several targets and mannequins were positioned on one side of the room. Someone had drawn a crude face on one of the mannequins and left a bunch of knives sticking out of it, but other than that the room looked fairly unused and dusty.

So Maki expected to be alone.

But it could never be like that. Fate did not smile down upon her - most of the time, at least.  

She scanned the walls, her eyes landing on a particular knife. Cautiously, she removed it from its place, running her eyes over the glistening black blade.

“You like that one?” Someone spoke up from behind her. Quick as a whip, Maki turned on her heel and jabbed it behind her - only to have the newcomer quickly sidestep her attack. The blade stopped in midair, inches away from a pale, slender neck.

The girl was nothing if not not _nondescript_ , Maki noted. Everything from her freckled face to her skinny body to her clipped black hair was completely and utterly standard. Her plainness kind of reminded her of Shirogane, if the softness had been entirely removed from her face.

She continued pointing the knife, but a raise of the eyebrow from the other girl made her lower it. “The Ontario M9, huh?” She asked. “You've got pretty good taste.”

“Don't patronize me,” Maki growled, her fingers still wrapped around its hilt.

The other shrugged. “I wasn't. I was just paying you a compliment… if I'm allowed to do that, anyway.” She tugged on one side of her hair, then started to twirl it around one finger as she talked. “It's a good weapon. There are knives I prefer, though. Ones that work better.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Hmm…” she took a moment to think, before pulling another blade from the wall. This one had a black handle, and the blade was slightly curved compared to the one Maki was holding. She handed her the hilt, letting her turn it over and over in her hand. “This one.”

“The ZT 0160?” She squinted at it, her expression as stony as it ever was. “I mean, I guess so. It could probably make a nasty dent in one of those dummies over there.”

The girl nodded. “Right? It's pretty tough. It's not my favorite, though.”

“What’s… your favorite, then?” Maki raised an eyebrow.

“What's yours?”

They stared at each other for a brief moment, before speaking at the same time. “The Ka-Bar USMC.”

The other girl blinked in surprise, but Maki remained firm in her expression - until she allowed a rare, sly smile to cross her face.

“I think we're going to get along just fine.”

 

* * *

 

“What do you think about those vacuum cleaner robots?”

Kiibo took a moment to think, and Amami patiently waited for his answer as the two walked along through the Hope’s Peak campus. The two had found that they got along well, and had taken to hanging around in their spare time. “...I think those can definitely be improved,” he stated, running a finger through his spiky white hair. “I mean, they always bump into tables and get stuck there. There's gotta be a few improvements that can be made to their programming.”

Amami nodded sagely, turning his head to look at the other boy. “Right. Maybe that's something you could work on, if you have the time.”

“Ah, so maybe it is!”

The two were so engrossed in their (somewhat menial) conversation that they didn't notice that someone was coming towards them until Amami accidentally bumped right into him. “Oh,” he took a step back to speak to the interloper. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

“Oh, no. It's fine. Don't worry about it, it was my fault for not looking where I was going,” the guy responded. He took in their faces rather quickly, but when he glanced down at their reserve course uniforms, something changed in his expression. He took a step back, his face still placid. “You're… in the reserve course?”

Amami could immediately tell that something was fishy about this guy, but he kept it to himself. Kiibo didn't look to share his feelings, so he decided to be cordial. “Yeah, we are. Name’s Rantarou. Rantarou Amami,” he stuck out a hand, metal rings glinting on his fingers.

The other guy smirked, but he returned the gesture and shook his hand. “Nagito Komaeda. The Super High School Level Good Luck. Nice to meet you, Amami-kun.”

“Yeah, you too,” he said. Kiibo’s eyes seemed to be darting between the two boys, but he made no move to say anything. An awkward silence settled over the group, so Amami figured that it was time to move on. “Well, me and Kiibo-kun had better get going, so-”

“Hang on.” Komaeda’s relaxed expression appeared to have frozen on his face. He turned to Kiibo, who appeared somewhat anxious. “Your name is Kiibo?”

“Uh, yeah. Have you heard of me, or…?” Kiibo scratched behind his ear. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Amami’s stomach, like a coiled snake.

Komaeda shook his head. “No, can't say I have. I just… hm.”

“Is something wrong?” Kiibo asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“Well, I was just wondering. How can an untalented scum like yourself be fit to carry the moniker of hope?”

And there it was. Amami’s stomach lurched, and Kiibo leaned backwards. “E-excuse me?! It's just a nickname, really… my grandpa gave it to me, and-”

“Oh, so I suppose that ‘hope’ is just a nickname now?” Komaeda muttered, seemingly to himself. “I'll have you know, it's not something to be tossed around by worthless masses like you.”

“Oi. Stop bullying Kiibo-kun.” Amami made his voice firm, facing down the pale boy. “Do you really have the right to speak like that? You earned your talent through a _lottery_ , of all things.”

“Amami-kun..!” Kiibo gasped, looking more nervous than Amami had ever seen him.

Komaeda simply laughed, a cold and humorless sound. “That's the beauty of it, though, isn't it…! That the talented were willing to accept garbage like me into their ranks, letting me mingle among them. But in the end, I'm just a stepping stone for them on the path to hope,” he cast a blank, distant gaze at the other two boys. “As are you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Amami griped. He put his hands on Kiibo’s shaking shoulders, as if he would shatter into a million pieces from fear if he didn't grab him.

Komaeda hugged his arms to his chest, with that same distant look in his eyes. “What I'm saying is… if it means that the talented people can reach the peak of hope… then the ordinary masses should just die.” He stared at them as he stated this, not breaking eye contact with either. Amami was aghast - a complete and total stranger telling him and Kiibo that they and their classmates would be better off dead? It was an experience that made him feel disgusted to his very core.

He had to get out of there.

He grabbed Kiibo’s hand and barked a quick “RUN!” At him, and the two took off faster than Amami had ever run before. His lanky frame propelled him along as his classmate panted behind him. But he was too pumped full of adrenaline and fear to care, both were practically pouring out of his ears.

Eventually, he and Kiibo came to a screeching halt on the side of a building. Komaeda was long gone, far away from them, and had probably lost interest in the two of them anyway. Amami glanced at Kiibo and noted the grave expression he had on his face.

He ruffled Kiibo’s hair in understanding, but neither of them spoke.

 

* * *

 

It had been an uneventful day for Kaede, full of studying. But when the sun dipped below the horizon, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Fishing it out, she tapped the home button and squinted at the alert that had centered itself on the backlit screen.

_From: Tsumugi Shirogane, To: Rantarou Amami, Miu Iruma, Kokichi Ouma, and 12 more_

_Hi everyone! I know this is sudden, but can you guys all meet me inside the reserve course gym? Thank you! （=´∇｀=）_

Even with the cheery emoticon, the text gave Kaede weird vibes that she didn't quite like. She couldn't explain it, exactly, but something about it didn't sit right with her.

But who was she to deny her classmates a meeting?

Slinging her trademark white backpack over her shoulder out of habit, she quickly locked her door, shut it behind her, and made her way down to the gym.

 

When Kaede slipped between the doors of the gym, the rest of her classmates were almost all there. Most of them appeared exceptionally disgruntled - they all liked Shirogane fine enough, sure, but a lot of them were busy with other things that they had to do. Yumeno was almost falling asleep on Chabashira’s shoulder, and the taller girl was just barely keeping her propped up.

As she stepped into the room and asserted herself into the crowd, there was a sudden hush. She swore she could almost hear the pipes creaking as everyone looked around at each other.

Much to her surprise, Hoshi was the first one to speak. “So… what is this?” he grumbled, flicking a lit cigarette up and down between his teeth. Gokuhara looked warily at it, but did not make a move edgewise to stop him from smoking it.

Momota scratched the back of his neck, yawning. “I don’t know. Shirogane ain’t even here, is she? It’s funny, calling everyone here and not even showing up…”  
“I’m sure she’s on her way,” Toujou spoke assuredly, folding her hands in front of her.

Maki let out a huffy sigh. “I wouldn’t put it past her to not show up, knowing her,” she grumbled.

Shinguuji turned to her, a curious look in his eyes. “By the by, Harukawa-san. I was meaning to ask you.”  
“Yes?”

“Who is that?” He pointed one bandaged finger at the person standing next to her - a girl who none of them recognized. Though none of them had noticed her at first, she had been there the whole time, looking over Class 1R with an icy blue stare.

Maki seemed unphased by the girl. “She’s my friend.”

“You can make _friends_?” Ouma seemed extremely surprised by this fact. But however sarcastic he was being, Kaede could see a strange look on his face, like he was trying to hold back deep-seated rage. Maki gave him a quick chop to the head.

“I can. Everyone, this is-”

“Erm, guys?” Another person spoke up. This time, it was Kiibo, who appeared exceptionally anxious. He nervously clasped his hands together, not meeting any of their eyes. “I have… a request, to make of you all.”

“What is it, Kiibo-kun?” Kaede asked, concerned. He appeared to twitch at the sound of his own name.

“Uh, well…” He glanced over at Amami, who raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. “Do you guys… think you could call me by my real name, from now on?”

There was not a single word said in response to that, at first. Kaede could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes upon the boy, who shrunk back a little in response. She could hear Amami mutter “Oh, no…” under his breath.

Knowing that no one was going to respond, Kaede decided to step up. She smiled warmly. “Okay, then. Tetsuya, right?” He nodded in response, and she continued. “So from now on, you’re Tetsuya-kun,”

There were murmurs of agreement, and Kaede just barely caught Amami giving him a melancholy look. Tetsuya lowered his head.

Just then, the doors flew open. The long-awaited Shirogane was standing there, Angie beside her. The latter quickly inserted herself into the crowd, as if whatever waited beyond that door was something she did not want to confront alone. “Sorry I’m late, everyone,” Shirogane apologized, continuing to hold the doors open.

“Oii… Shittygane! What’s the deal?” Iruma yawned. “A genius inventor like my magnificent self needs her beauty sleep! I was plannin’ on going to bed!”

“Ahh…” Shirogane wrung her hands uselessly. “I’m sorry! But there’s someone who really wanted to meet all of you. We’ve been talking all day, and-”

“Who is it?” Kaede found herself asking. The still-unnamed girl next to Maki coughed.

Shirogane adjusted her glasses. “Well-”

“Haah? You don’t need to preface my introduction! I can do that myself!” said a voice from beyond the door. This prompted Shirogane to awkwardly step to the side, still holding one of the doors open.

High-heeled boots clacked against the scuffed gym floor as the newcomer entered. She was a lot to take in, but everyone managed it - from her shapely legs to her… assets… to her pale blue eyes that burned with a mischievous light. She exuded a powerful aura that filled everyone with many things they could not quite place, but there was one thing they got a sense of that they could.

Danger.

“Hey, guys!” The girl exclaimed, flashing everyone a peace sign. “My name’s Junko. Junko Enoshima! And I’m super stoked to meet you all!”

“Now!” she waved her hands excitedly, her pigtails bouncing. “Hold onto your ass, everyone! ‘Cause I’ve got something to show you that you’re never gonna forget!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
> by the way, you might want to start brushing up on your dr0 knowledge. you'll need it. we promise.
> 
> sou (gonta) notes: uh. huh. hm.
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes: *CLANGING POTS AND PANS* WELCOME TO HELL WELCOME TO HELL WELCOME TO HE
> 
> (If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping us a comment and/or kudos! we love getting feedback and hearing theories. Thank you!)


	8. The Devil Wears Designer Fashions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! We'd appreciate it if you could read these notes before the actual chapter. Thank you!
> 
> Hey there! Kirby here, love how our reads have supported us thus far. There's something that I wanna address before you get into this chapter of despair.  
> If you're going to comment, great cool! We love comments!  
>  **If you're going to comment with actual critique that helps us grow as writers, and you're writing it in a respectful way, awesome! Go right ahead my friend!**  
>  If you're going to comment something that's basically a four paragraph "critique" that can be summed up with "you suck" then don't bother.  
> If you're going to comment something about how this fic is overrated, then close out of this tab right now buddy because, quite frankly, this is clearly not your cup of tea. My question from there is why bother? I really don't know what you expect from you commenting in such a condescending matter, but you sure as hell shouldn't be expected my respect when ya do so. There's other fics out there. Write your own. I don't care, but leave. We do this for fun! So quite frankly I don't need some fun-suckin leeches around here!  
> You know who the hell you are buddy. If this doesn't apply to you, great! If it does? I don't care for your opinion.
> 
> Anyway, onto the chapter. If you're still with us, we hope you enjoy!

Silence.

No one made a move in that moment. Junko was standing with her arms out, grinning proudly, as if expecting everyone to embrace her. But the look in her eyes clarified that her intentions were anything  _ but _ that. As everyone took an awkward few minutes to really drink her in, the nondescript black-haired girl whispered something in Maki’s ear and walked over to Junko’s side. 

Junko gave her a wayward glance. Then she reached out and yanked hard on her earlobe. “Geez, onee-chan, where have you been? All I asked you to do is show up, you perv.”

“...I actually got here before you did, Junko-chan,” she murmured, her eyes cast down towards the ground.

She let go of Mukuro’s ear, leaving her rubbing the red skin on it in order to ease the irritation. “Oh, that makes sense! Someone as plain as you would fit right in among these reserve course scuds, huh?” the other girl mumbled something, but she was quickly cut off. “Anyway, this is my sister. Mukuro Ikusaba. But she’s not the thing you’re supposed to be focusing on here, so you can just forget about that!”

“You’re… you’re main course students?” Tetsuya choked out, looking paler than usual. With his white hair, he looked like a piece of paper. “What are you doing over here?” 

Kaede looked over and saw Shirogane beginning to shift uncomfortably. Something told her that even she, who had gathered everyone there, was beginning to be disconcerted by this turn of events. 

Junko tossed her hair, not seeming particularly sensitive to the hostility that permeated the room. “You said it yourself! I’m a main course student, so that means that I can go wherever I want. Including this dingy old gym.” She snapped her fingers at Mukuro. Seeming to recognize whatever cue Junko was sending, she dashed out of the door. Mukuro came back about a minute later, dragging what seemed to be a large projector and a screen. Everyone appeared distinctly wary, and Kaede noted that she had never seen Shinguuji look so contemptuous of anything that had happened to them before. 

“Oi! Aren’t you that model?” spat Iruma. “Haaah, your chest is even flatter than Bakamatsu’s! How could someone like you ever be a model?”

“I-it’s not flat!” Kaede stammered. Junko’s demeanor immediately changed, becoming moodier. 

“Ahh… I see how it is. You hate me, don’t you? I would have expected that much from someone who drools as much as you do…”

“Eat shit, fatty!”

“Bite me, pig!”

“Please, d-don’t fight!” Shirogane managed to say. “Enoshima-san specifically requested to see you all.”

“I was wondering about that.” Balancing an unlit cigarette between his teeth, Hoshi fiddled with his lighter. “What business do ya have here, anyway? Don’t try to pull anything shady.”

“What are you going to do, punch me in the kneecaps?” Junko sniggered, before turning back to her sister. “Onee-chan, are you done yet?”

As everyone looked on, the plain-looking girl plugged a few cords into each other. “Yeah, Junko-chan. It should be okay now.”

“Great!” Junko flashed a peace sign at no one in particular before turning back to Class 1R. Her voice took on a haughty tone. “Worthless worms that populate the reserve course!” she started, before pausing. “At least, that’s what everyone thinks you are. But that’s not important. Do you guys like movies?”

There was a mutter of disagreement, despite the fact that everyone  _ did _ like movies. They just weren’t interested in anything a main course student had to offer them. But Junko’s grin didn’t falter. “Well, I don’t care! ‘Cause I’m showing you one, anyway. Why don’t you all just pop a squat on the floor, so we can get this party started?”

Chabashira balled her fists, looking like she was going to assail the model. “Tenko won’t-”

“A-ah, Chabashira-san…” Shirogane looked pained. “...Please. She was really insistent… it’ll probably be for the best if you all cooperate.” 

“See? This is what I like about you, Tsumugi. You’re smart,” Junko stated. Shirogane nervously pushed her glasses up on her face. Slowly, everyone took a seat, though the atmosphere was too tense to be relaxing in. 

Junko smiled. “You guys are lucky, you know,” she stated. “You're the first people to see this! It's gonna be the  _ Citizen Kane _ of our time.”

“What's it about, anyway?” Momota grumbled. 

“Human nature.” She folded her hands behind her neck. “Alright, Mukuro! Put it on already!” 

“...Yes.” Her sister’s reply was soft, but she walked behind the projector and hit a button on the console. Instantly, light shot out of the machine and onto the screen, displaying footage that looked as though it had been taken with a handheld camera. 

And so it began. 

 

The events of the film were hard to make out, because of how shaky the camera was - but the intention was clear. The first thing that Kaede noticed was a beautiful singing voice in the background of the footage, singing a song that she knew very well. She herself had played it at a recital, once; the memory almost made her smile. But then, the group of people on-screen started to change. Weapons were tossed out, friendships and relationships shattered right before her eyes, and then came the blood. Oh, there was so much blood. One by one, every person in the group fell like little tin soldiers knocked over by a childish hand, as they ruthlessly attacked each other. Kaede could swear that she saw a person with overpoweringly black hair wearing a reserve course uniform in the background, but no one else in the film was recognizable to her. The song stayed ever-present throughout the showing, but it was not enough to overpower the labored breathing of her classmates.

And then the footage stopped.

There was no warming, no grind to a halt. It just cut off at the end, on a shot of a room positively caked with blood. Complete and utter desolation. 

The end.

The gym lights slowly went up - when had they been turned off? - and Junko walked in front of the screen, looking like a proud mother. “Sooo?” She cocked her head at them, her eyes wide with curiosity. “What did you think? Is it great, or what?!”

There was a long pause in which everyone simply looked at her, their eyes wide and clouded with an unknowable expression. No one moved to speak, for no one was quite certain what to even say. 

Then, Iruma blew a raspberry with her tongue.

“That fuckin’ sucked!” She crowed, and there was a murmur of agreement. Almost all at once, everyone began to lampoon the film. 

“That was the worst movie I’ve ever seen,” Yumeno whined. “There weren’t even any wizards in it… having wizards in a bad movie can save it, you know.”

“What… what  _ was _ that?” Saihara put a hand over his mouth. 

“Oh! It’s like if you made a bunch of monkeys watch  _ The 120 Days of Sodom _ and then try to replicate it!” Angie grinned cheekily. 

“You’ve… I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to enjoy those kinds of movies.” Hoshi muttered.

“Angie hasn’t seen it! But kami-sama says that it’s so~!”

“...I see.”

Big old crocodile tears began to well up in Junko’s eyes. “Waaahh, you’re all so mean! It hasn’t even been edited yet, you know. I worked s-so hard on it, too…”

Amami frowned, and shook his head. “Well, it wasn’t very good. Maybe you need to try reshooting it? I’d recommend being a bit less heavy on the fake blood.” Unconcerned, he fiddled with one of his earrings. “I think it has potential, though. You could submit it to a film festival, if you retake it.”

“Sh-shirogane, you know I can’t sit through horror movies…” Momota had a bizarre expression on his face, as if he had just had a heart attack. He turned to talk to Harukawa, but she quickly averted her gaze from the rest of the group, so he settled for the next closest person. “What did ya think, Ouma?”

Everyone looked over at him - and everyone collectively froze. The look on Ouma’s face was one of complete and utter dread, and his teeth were clenched in a manner uncharacteristic of his normally bemused demeanor.

“Ouma-kun?” Kaede found herself saying. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze as he spoke. “I…” he stammered, hugging his arms tight to his chest. 

“Was it that frightening?” Shinguuji murmured. “‘Twas merely special effects, was it not?”

“CGI, I think…” Saihara said.

“Guys… that’s… that’s just the thing.” he shook his head, and a feeling of worry began to enter Kaede’s mind. 

“Spit it out already!” said Iruma. Kaede briefly glanced behind the group to see that Junko was wildly grinning, and her stomach dropped. At the same time, Ouma finally got out what he wanted to say.

“I don’t think that was fake.”

The whole group stopped in their tracks, though Harukawa merely closed her eyes in agreement. The mutual ragging on the film had come to an abrupt end, and was replaced with only discomfort. 

“What do you mean?!” Chabashira stammered, prodding her fingers together and beginning to sweat. “How would you know that, you menace?”

“Yeah. It was just a movie, right?” Yumeno pouted, sticking her lip out. She clearly wanted to just get out of there and go to bed, or just do something else. Kaede could understand the feeling. 

“You know that guy I told you about? The one who I hadn’t heard of before almost getting scouted by Hope’s Peak?” Ouma continued, looking as though he was ready to upchuck into the nearest container. “Well… you all just met him, I guess.”

“What are you talking about…?” asked Tetsuya, beginning to blanch. Kaede wasn’t even sure that he  _ could _ get paler than he normally was, but she was once again proven wrong. 

Mukuro coughed. “He means that-”

“Gaawd, Onee-chan, let me talk for once!” Junko stamped her feet childishly, causing Mukuro to immediately clam up. Kaede noticed Shinguuji’s eyes narrowing at the sight of this behavior, but he did not dare to interrupt the fashionista. “Yes, that was Soshun Murasame and his little gang of Student Council preps, in the flesh!” She put her hands on her hips in an expression of utmost presumptuousness. “Oh, and Rantarooou?”

Amami swallowed. “Me?”

“Yeah, you! Avocado head!”

“I mean, I guess. What?”

“That wasn’t fake blood.”

No one had a retaliation to that. Harukawa grunted, but other than that there was no sound. If you listened closely enough, you could hear the gears turning in everyone’s head as they attempted to parse what Junko was saying.

Then, the room burst into chaos. 

“WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE, NOW.” Toujou yelled, stern as ever. 

Gonta looked fierce, his appearance betraying his lupine upbringing. “Everyone get behind Gonta! Whatever this is, it’s ultimately very unchivalrous. You two will have to go through Gonta first!”

“Get the door!” Momota stammered, and everyone made a mad dash for the door. But before they could escape, Mukuro had blocked it with her arms outstretched. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…!”

Junko clapped giddily, reminding Kaede of a child. “Thanks, Mukuro! I guess you’re good for something after all.”

Shinguuji looked as though his hair was about to stand on end from tension. “One should not speak to their older sister that way!” he declared, accusingly pointing a bandaged finger.

“Huh? What would you know about that, Gucci-kun?” Junko rolled her eyes, but this only made the anthropologist appear more enraged. Before he could retaliate, however, she called out again. “You guys can’t leave yet! I brought you here for a reason, you know.”

“H-how do you know everyone’s names?” Shirogane asked. “I didn’t even tell you that…”

“I guess I’m just a genius, Tsumugi!” She cocked her head, her pigtails flouncing, and smiled. “Anyway, I have a proposal for you all.”

“We’re not interested,” Harukawa stated bluntly. 

“Hah, I thought you guys would be more daring than this. Don’t you want to start a revolution?” Junko yawned, the action belying the gravity of the words that she spoke.

Kaede tried her best to drink in the reality of this situation. So she and fifteen of her classmates were trapped in a shoddy gym by a maybe-murderer and her sister, and had been forced to watch a snuff film. And now the maybe-murderer was offering them… a revolution? The only way this day could get any weirder was if Chopin’s ghost were to burst through the door and start playing “Nocturnes” using his own bones. 

“A… what?” Ouma managed to get out, though he was still shaking in his boots. 

“Well, exactly what it sounds like, Kokichi!” She put her hands on her hips. “I mean, have any of you heard anything about this?”

Everyone glanced back and forth at each other, but none of them responded. 

“Of course you haven’t! Because the Main Course covered it up! They don’t care about what happens to the students!”

“S-so that was real, then?” Gonta sputtered. “They really killed each other?! How cruel…”

Sighing, Junko yanked down on her left lower eyelid and stuck out her tongue. “No, they didn’t. They went to the mega mall together and went shopping.”

Now, Gonta just looked confused. “Really?”

“Are you kiddin’ me, Gonta? Of course they didn’t! You watched the tape, didn’t you? Besides, we just spent the last five minutes proving that it wasn’t just special effects.”

“Stop being mean to Gonta-kun…” Yumeno grumbled, waving her hand around uselessly. “Or I’ll hex you.”

“Anyway,” Junko continued, completely ignoring Yumeno (who huffed and crossed her arms). “You can tell, can’t you? The Main Course doesn’t give two shits about what happens to its own students, let alone you guys! Where’s that gonna leave you?”

“What are you saying?” Angie asked, for once looking distinctly not-lackadaisical. Instead, she seemed disconcerted by the idea of the revolution that Junko was proposing.

“Well, if you work with me, you can stick it to the man! I’m part of the Main Course and all, but I hate ‘em as much as you do, y’know? All of that talk about hope and talent is just so boring! You guys can work with me, and rally the rest of the Reserve Course to fight against them! It’s the perfect plan!”

“You’re out of your mind!” Tetsuya managed to choke out. Iruma nodded.

“Tetsuya may be kind of a pussy, but at least he’s smart! You’re fuckin’ nuts, Enoshitma!”

“Uuwah, I’m trying my best!” Junko waved her hands, before calming down. She pulled a seemingly not-prescription pair of glasses out of her pocket and placed them on the bridge of her nose, taking on a more reserved look. “Ah, I know. I’ll sweeten the deal for you. In the Reserve Course, it’s possible for students to move into the main course, right? Well, work with me, and I’ll put in a good word for all of you. How does that sound?”

“With all due respect,” said Toujou, “We’re all aware that the idea of ‘moving up from the reserve course’ is a farce.”

“Huh?”

Hoshi scoffed. “The Reserve Course only came into effect about a year or two ago, you know. Not a single person has moved up from it, but Hope’s Peak  _ has _ raked in a ton of cash even without anyone moving up. It's a goddamn scam.”

Iruma nodded, “Yeah! Not to mention, I've been working my ass off since I got here! Either way, if they hadn't noticed my glorious inventions, someone from our class would've been the first fucker outta here! We’re the closest thing to goddamn talent this shitty place has!”

Tetsuya didn’t meet Junko’s eyes, but he managed to get out “Besides, even if we stay in the Reserve Course… it’s likely that we could still get into good colleges. They don’t really care that we were in the Reserve Course, just that we went to Hope’s Peak. At least… that’s what I’ve heard.”

Junko’s eyes narrowed, but she did not admit her defeat. Instead, she gently closed her eyes and a small smile crossed her face. “Well, do you know what  _ I _ heard?” She mumbled, barely audible. Still, everyone turned to her. “I heard that the Main Course testing a few months ago was tampered with. That it was sabotaged by someone on campus.”

Kaede’s eyes widened. Behind her, Momota muttered “Aw, shit.”

The fashionista took on a look of surprise at his proclamation. “Eh? That was you guys? I was really just stating something that happened, I didn’t expect anything to come of it!” As everyone in the class collectively shot Momota a withering look, she rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this is just great. Thanks for giving me more dirt on you, guys! How’s this for a proposal? If you don’t go along with what I say, I’ll tell the faculty what you did.”

“You…” Saihara stammered. “You have no proof. Besides, we can go to the police, and report you for what you made those guys do. My uncle is-”

Mukuro gently placed her hand over her face in the background, as Junko began to maliciously cackle. “The POLICE? You think that they’d believe  _ you _ of all people? You’re a class of rejects and delinquents. That’s why the only option for you is to go along with me, you know?”

Hoshi let out a breath of cigarette smoke. “Hmph. Hope’s Peak Academy doesn’t mean much to me. I’ll probably end up in the pen whether I graduate from here or not.”

“That’s not true, Hoshi-kun!” Gonta exclaimed, directing his attention to the much smaller boy.

He shrugged. “Okay, Thanks, whatever. But as I was sayin’, not going here isn’t the end of the world. We’re treated like worse scum than we are here as is.”

“Yeah!” Ouma seemed to have recovered from his shock somewhat. He jabbed a finger at Junko. “I could always go back to… back to my cult! That I totally have!”

Harukawa raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a cult.”

“I could always start one!”

She didn’t seem to have a rebuttal for that. 

Amami crossed his arms, staring Junko down hard. “You can take your movie and shove it, Enoshima-san. We’re not accepting your offer. We don’t care what you do to the main course, just leave us be.”

Junko didn’t seem too pleased at this. “Aww. We worked so hard on this video… Me, Kamukura-kun, and even Onee-chan.”

At the second name she listed, Amami’s brow furrowed with concern. He looked as though he was about to say something, but Shinguuji gave him a sidelong glance. The two nodded at each other, having reached some mutual understanding that Kaede wasn’t entirely sure about. 

Junko continued. “Ahh… I have an idea, then. If you didn’t like our movie, we could always reshoot it.”

“Oi, what do you mean-” Iruma started, but she was quickly interrupted.

“Of course, we’d need to recast it…” A serpentine smile made its home on her face. “And I think you guys would be the perfect candidates, hm? I mean, the murder of a simple Reserve Course class wouldn’t be nearly as despair-inducing as a roomful of Super High School Levels, but it’d do. At least, it would suit your tastes, right?”

She was met with silence. Complete, utter, desolated silence. Kaede watched as Ouma’s face fell, tears welled up in Shirogane’s eyes, and Angie began to pray silently. She couldn’t even see Saihara’s face, as he was staring at the ground. Not a single pleasant look remained on any of the faces of her classmates. They had been met with something that they could not refute - their options were either submission or death. 

It was she who spoke next, although timidly. “We’ll… if we have no choice, then I guess we’ll do it, then.”

There was no murmur of agreement, no nodding of heads. Still, there was a sense of nothingness that let her know that no one was willing to die for this. 

Harukawa muttered quietly. “Akamatsu…”

“No!”

The shout was sudden, and completely and totally unaccounted for. Even Junko raised an eyebrow, and everyone turned in the direction of Chabashira. Her face was damp with sweat, her clenched fists shaking. 

“Tenko won't stand for this!” She shouted. “Enoshima-chan, Tenko won't let you hurt her friends! You'll have to go through her, first!”

Her sudden insurgence inspired another one of Kaede’s classmates to speak up as well. “I may not be as much of a fighter as Chabashira,” Momota stated. “But if you don't think I'm willin’ to fight for what I believe in, then you don't know me at all! And I  _ believe _ that you're full of shit!” He balled his fists as well, adopting a fighting stance. Behind him, Gonta looked like he was considering joining the resistance as well. 

But Mukuro coughed. Before anyone could move, she had pulled two massive guns out from… somewhere (Kaede could never determine where afterwards, no matter how hard she tried) and was aiming them at the group. Her icy blue eyes were narrowed into a squint, her expression filled with a sordid determination. 

Junko yawned. “Listen, Pinwheel. Eggplant head. It’s cute and all how you thought that that show of determination would do much of anything, but this is the real world. Not some janked-up shonen anime. Pull that again, and we’ll start filming right now! I’m sure Kamukura-kun won’t mind that we’re doing it without him.”

Kaede noticed Shirogane lurch backwards. “You… E-enoshima-san, you just… said you wanted to meet my classmates…”

“And I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes, b-but… what are you going to make us do?”

She shrugged, not seeming to care for the fact that everyone in the room except for her and Mukuro feared for their lives. “We’re getting this hapless scrub to edit the video, so we can actually use it for something other than getting bad reviews.  _ You _ schlubs are going to distribute it, help us out on some other things, and make sure that none of the Reserve Course faculty suspect our involvement. You know - acting as double agents, and all that cool stuff. I’ll text you guys the video and stuff later, just make sure you don’t watch it.”

“But… we just watched it,” Saihara pointed out. “Why are you telling us not to?”

Junko puffed her cheeks out. “We’ve gotta make some eeeedits to it, Shuuuichi!

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“Just trust me on this, ‘kay?” Junko stretched. “We’re gonna have some other… special tasks for you guys to do, too, but we can’t do those until someone special joins in on the fun.”

“Someone special…?” The joy that was normally omnipresent on Angie’s face was quickly fading away. 

“Details, details!” Junko shook her head. But it seemed as though she was finally done with her spiel. “Come on, Onee-chan. I think we’ve done what we came here to do, hm?”

As Kaede watched, frozen in place, Junko and Mukuro walked towards the door. Before they could leave, though, she blurted out “W-wait!”

Junko turned. “What do you want, blondie?”

“Uh…” She hadn’t been expecting to get a response. Nervously, she fiddled with her hairpins. “Just tell us. Why are you doing this?”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…” The fashionista put a perfectly manicured finger to her chin. Suddenly, a wild grin spread across her face. “Despair! That’s all I want.”

But before anyone could ask what she meant, she was out the door. Mukuro stayed behind a moment, casting a glance backwards at the class. “...Sorry,” she murmured, before following her sister. The two girls were gone, leaving only fear, suspicion, and doubt behind them. 

There were no other feelings to be had.

 

“So, here’s my idea,” said Hoshi, taking a long drag on a cigarette. “We do a suicide pact, and-”

“...Please, Hoshi-san,” Toujou said, gently. Immediately, he clammed up.

Iruma had called everyone to “hang out”, as she put it, in her dorm. It was late at night, and very few students were around - most had either gone to bed, or were up studying at the library. It was so quiet on the particular floor they happened to be on that they could hear creaking from the floor above as students wandered around, fulfilling their nightly routines. Unfortunately, a single dorm room was not designed to fit sixteen students, so everyone found themselves crammed into the space. Gonta actually had to stand up and lean against a wall, so that the others had room to sit on the floor. 

Iruma and Tetsuya were sitting on the former’s bed, fiddling with some equipment Kaede didn’t recognize. Iruma had been uncharacteristically quiet since they had gotten back - she hadn’t stopped to make a single snarky comment since she had begun work on whatever it was she was making. It had to have been extremely important, she figured. 

There had been idle chatter among the group, but it had been tinged with an awkwardness never before seen in the class. At one point, Shinguuji asked Amami if he could speak with him privately, so the two had gone out into the hallway. Kaede could only imagine what the two were speaking about, as she hadn’t thought they were great friends beforehand. Like Iruma’s work, it must have been a matter of great importance. 

Yumeno, blunt as always, was the first one to address the elephant in the room. “Hey… that thing that Enoshima mentioned. Y’all don’t think it’s real, do you? Would the police really cover something like that up?” 

The awkward small talk grinded to a halt, as everyone considered what Yumeno was saying. It seemed altogether possible - Junko wasn’t exactly a trustworthy person, after all. But Kaede wouldn’t put it past the main course to do something like that. 

Toujou frowned. “I’m afraid I do not recall if the incident regarding Kuzu- the girl who was killed a few months ago ever got out to the generalized press. Fufufu, it’s very strange, is it not?” Her laugh was more forced than anything, and she put a hand to her mouth. Kaede noticed the light leaving Hoshi’s eyes, but he turned away before she could get a good look at him. 

“I…” Shirogane shivered. Without warning, her eyes welled up with tears. “I-I’m sorry! It’s my fault, isn’t it? We were talking, and she seemed really nice… I had seen her in magazines before, and she was a good model, a-and-”

“Shirogane-san! Please, do not blame yourself!” Gonta exclaimed. He went to pat her on the back, realized that he would probably knock the wind out of her, and stopped midway. Angie completed the gesture in his stead, and Saihara gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Kaede sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, something tells me that this incident would have happened whether you met her or not, Shirogane-san. She seemed pretty hellbent on finding us.”

Ouma pulled out his cell phone, glanced at it, and sighed. “She was so mean, even more treacherous than an evil supreme leader like myself! Still, I have to admire her maneuver with the video. Very nefarious of her-”

“Don’t.” Harukawa cut him off, and he merely looked sheepish. “At least take things seriously for once in your life. Do you want to be killed?”

“I’m just… I’m just kind of scared, y’know?” Ouma’s voice was very small. “That’s not even a lie.” 

No one was sure what to say in response to that.

Shinguuji and Amami ducked back into the room. The former’s face was as unreadable as it ever was, but Amami’s eyes were clouded over with a grave look. He quickly sat down before anyone could ask him what was wrong, though. 

“Oi!” Momota finally spoke up. “Why are we all here, anyway? It’s pretty damn cramped, Iruma-”

“Shut up, Momotitties!” Iruma snapped, her blonde hair bouncing as she whipped her head around to sneer at him. “I’m almost done. Don’t rush genius!”

“She’s right about being almost done, at least,” Tetsuya added in. 

“Whatever,” The purple-haired boy shook his head. “What did you call us in for, then? Knowing you, it’s probably some kind of orgy.”

Iruma snorted, spit flying out of her mouth and landing unceremoniously on Tetsuya’s face. “Please. I can do way better than you clowns.”

“What’s that supposed to m-”

“AHA!” She shouted, causing everyone to jump. “It’s finished!” Triumphantly, she held up a device that appeared to be a tangle of wires and buttons. Everyone ogled it warily, not quite sure what kind of a reaction they were supposed to be having.

“Ehh? What’s that?” Chabashira cocked her head in confusion. 

Iruma grinned. “So, we were talkin’ about nanobots the other day. Me and Tets made this lil’ bug robot that can record audio, and-”

“Tets?” Tetsuya’s brow furrowed.

“Yeah! Calling you by your real name is weird, and I can’t think of any good innuendos. Anyway, We’re gonna fly it around campus, and see if we can pick up anything interesting.”

“Interesting? Like what?” Shinguuji folded his hands inquisitively

“Sex noises!” Iruma grinned gleefully. Hoshi began choking on the ashes of his cigarette, and it took a whack on the back from Toujou to return him to normal. Shinguuji rubbed his temples. “Oh, come on. Stop being sticks-in-the-mud. It’ll be fun!”

Saihara ran his fingers through his hair. “H-hey, uh. Iruma-san?”

“Hm?”   
“Where on campus is your robot thing?”

She shrugged. “I’m not checking. It'll be a surprise! Guess we’ll find o-”

_ “No matter what, we cannot let that ‘incident’ reach the public eye.” _

The room immediately fell silent, and everyone’s attention turned to the controller that Iruma was holding. It had just crackled to life, emitting a grainy voice that none of them had heard before. It sounded aged and cracked, a voice that belonged to a much older man. But it didn’t sound like any of the faculty whom Kaede had met, nor did it sound like the headmaster who had given a speech they’d heard so long ago. 

Whatever this was, it was not something that was meant to be heard.

Another man spoke.  _ “It really is such a shame that this happened to such talented individuals, isn't it? Almost an entire class’s worth of students dead, and the Super High School Level Class President has been rendered comatose.” _

“Soshun Murasame…” Ouma’s voice was quiet, almost imperceptible. Devoid of its normal cheekiness. Everyone was so absorbed in eavesdropping, though, that he went ignored. 

_ “Have we failed in our duty?”  _ Kaede wasn't sure if everyone could discern that it was a third man speaking, but her finely-tuned musician’s hearing picked up the distinction effortlessly.  _ “Kirigiri-san says that the purpose of Hope’s Peak is to protect and nurture talent. There's nothing more tragic than hostility directed towards those with talent.” _

The last inkling of boredom faded from Iruma’s face. She held up the controller for all to get a better read on the situation. The conversation between the mysterious men continued on. 

_ “No matter who did it, it was not the kind of people that we've bred here. Even those with delinquency-related talents… they've never committed something to this effect.” _

_ “And that's exactly why we can't have this getting out.” _ A fourth man, this one particularly gruff. This seemed to be the last person in the room.  _ “If this gets leaked, our whole philosophy of hope crumbles. Our reputation will be completely and utterly obliterated. That's far too great a loss for us to risk - the alumni don't want that, and neither do we. Do we, gentlemen?” _

There was a mutter of agreement. Kaede took a moment to shoot a quick look at her classmates. Tetsuya’s hands were shaking, Saihara’s eyes were wide with fear and concern. The camaraderie had vanished once again, replaced with pure fear. 

_ “I think the biggest tragedy is the culprit… that hope, created in honor of the school’s founder. I don't think anyone could have foreseen that. If only we could hunt him down, we could-” _

_ “No, we can't do that. That would involve revealing his existence to the public.”  _ Beside Kaede, Amami opened his mouth as if to say something. Then, he thought better of it and closed it. 

_ “We can't just say the student council was all expelled, can we?” _

_ “Hm. That's a problem for another time. Maybe we can, even. For now, we've at least come to an agreement about what to do about it.” _

_ “Alright, then.”  _ One of the men coughed.  _ “Moving on. The teacher’s convention is coming up, and-” _

Just like that, they moved on to irrelevant topics that had nothing to do with them. The class listened for a moment more, before Iruma shut off the controller’s audio. Her eyes were wide with a crazed fear. 

“What… the fuck… was that?” She stammered. “That definitely wasn't sex.”

“Iruma-san.” Tetsuya’s voice was uncharacteristically firm. “You installed a GPS in the nanobot, didn't you? Where is it right now?”

She fiddled with the controller. “Let me check…” her eyes widened, and she broke into a scowl. “Faculty building, east part of campus.”

“Shit! So, there's no doubt it was from actual Hope’s Peak staff, then.” Momota scowled. Yumeno, who was the one to suggest that Junko was lying, looked positively aghast. She pulled her hat over her eyes. 

“So, it was true, then. I thought as much.” Saihara muttered, putting his hand over his mouth in quiet contemplation. A cold atmosphere quickly settled into the room. No one was sure what to make of this newfound information - on one hand, it was horrific. But on the other hand, none of them wanted to play right into Junko Enoshima’s hands.

Kaede found herself asking the question that was on everyone’s mind. “What do we do? If we don’t go along with this, we might be killed! But if we do…”

“You know what? I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Ouma clenched a fist, staring everyone down with a look of utter determination. “We’re going to bring down this shitty Main Course  _ bullshit _ once and for all.”

Gonta paled. “B-but… won’t that mean we’ll be doing what Enoshima-san wants?”

“That’s just the thing.” Ouma closed his eyes. 

“Fuck Enoshima-chan. We’re not doing this for Enoshima-chan. We’re doing this for  **_us_ ** .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what we said about brushing up on dr0? That still applies. PLEASE READ ZERO
> 
> sou (gonta) notes: you kind of have to wonder at what point during the video ouma realized that it could have been him there
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes: I'm so upset the StuCo and 1R never met that's the real tragedy.
> 
> (If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping us a comment and/or kudos! we love getting feedback and hearing theories. Thank you!)


	9. The Fools in their Tower (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......hey! sorry for the radio silence. I got hit with the one-two-three punch of wanting to work on other projects, having a ton of schoolwork, and feeling very unmotivated. But we're finally able to bring this chapter to you!  
>  This next chapter will be split into two parts, since it's insufferably long and we don't expect any of you to want to read 10,000+ words in a single chapter. It's long enough already. Expect the next one in a week or so!  
> by the way, if you haven't already, THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO READ DR0/A SUMMARY OF DR0. you can read this chapter w/o knowing much about dr0, but it might make things confusing. Reading it first might help things.  
> the other thing is that this chapter doesn't follow a linear timeline. events occur in an anthology-esque format, revealing more information about the situation as they go. we'll provide a timeline next chapter once all the events are revealed  
> as always, enjoy!

The sky was blue, the sun bright. But even as its rays shone down on the campus of the Reserve Course, it was clear that a storm was brewing among its students. The tension came off one particular part of the quad in waves, nearly palpable in the otherwise light and cheery air. Terror was stricken into the hearts of any who dared to walk by, and many turned away and headed in the other direction once they bore witness to the events that were unfolding before them. Pure sound and fury.

Harukawa’s face was encompassed by a stormy scowl, the darkest that anyone had seen it look. She stared down her opponent with the fury of a frostbite-inducing wind: cold, yet calculating and deadly. “This is hopeless,” her words were sounded out slowly, molasses on her tongue. “Your reactions are ludicrous. Emotions are nothing but chemicals. They hold no intrinsic value, and thusly your actions mean nothing to me.” She glowered, her expression filled with pure hatred. “Back down.”

Hoshi smirked, balancing a cigarette precariously between his teeth. He did not break concentration with the assassin, his all-seeing gaze fully swallowing her. “Hypocrite that you are, for you trust the chemicals in your brain to tell you they are chemicals. All knowledge is ultimately based on that which we cannot prove. Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?”

The two verbally circled each other, their actions nearly dripping with the deadly toxin of adversity. There was no kindness nor sensitivity between the two. Between them, Momota was visibly beginning to sweat, his hands shaking as his eyes darted from one to another. His lower lip stuck out, as if it was all he could do to keep himself from letting out a terrified scream. 

The tension was immediately interrupted, however, by the sound of someone ripping over a bag of chips.

Three pairs of eyes turned to Himiko Yumeno, sitting cross-legged near the rest of them. She had the aforementioned bag (though, upon closer inspection, it was a bag of cheese snacks) positioned in her lap, and was using one hand to scoop the snacks from the bag. The other was holding a few cards, fanned out like an experienced poker player. She yawned. “You guys… you’re too much. I dunno how you deal with this.” After rubbing her eyes, she plucked one of her cards out of her hand and laid it down on the pile in the middle of the group. “Momota. Draw four.”

“Aw, motherfucker!” Momota grumbled, but diligently did just that. Harukawa closed her eyes in resignation, and Hoshi snorted.

The group was  _ not _ engaged in some kind of deadly combat or life-ending debate, but in a simple, mundane game of Uno. At least, that’s what Yumeno had thought that it would be. But in hindsight, doing anything with that particular trio was likely to devolve into chaos faster than she could even spell the word. 

The odd truth to the situation was that they were technically doing this under orders from Junko. At a certain point, the fashionista had texted everyone separate messages with their roles in her grand Machiavellian scheme. Yumeno, Momota, and Hoshi had been selected to be part of what she so lovingly deemed the “normie squad”. Their sole job was to provide an alibi for the things that the rest of the class were doing, by going about their business as usual. Harukawa had joined the three of them after allegedly refusing the position that she was offered - something about bodyguarding, Yumeno recalled. She had been very mum with the details, and she had no desire to press her further. It was far too tiring. 

Speaking of tiring, that was what the game was becoming. The disputes that started over the turns were funny at first, but she was nowhere near as invested in them as the others were. The others soon took their turns, almost launching into yet another argument. Popping a cheese snack into her mouth, Yumeno sighed. “This is gettin’ boring,” she muttered, tracing a line in the grass with one finger. 

“You’re just saying that ‘cause it’s your turn!” Momota sputtered, prompting an eye-roll from Harukawa. 

Hoshi rested a hand on his cheek, giving Yumeno a bemused look. “You got any other ideas?” he asked, eyeing the stack of cards that lay in the middle of the group. Yumeno thought for a moment before snapping her fingers.

“Oh. I know. Give me a second.”

As the others watched, she picked up her backpack from where it lay on the green of the quad. The numerous paraphernalia attached to it by keychains jangled as she fished through it, her eyes widening as she grabbed hold of the thing she was looking for. With all the grandeur of someone in her profession, she lifted the object out of the bag.

A deck of cards, browned with age.

Harukawa scoffed as Yumeno opened the box. “We just played cards. We don’t need to play it with a different deck. I don’t even think you  _ can _ play Uno with a normal deck.” 

But she shook her head. “They’re not playing cards.” She spread the cards out, the others watching in fascination as she revealed their intricately designed faces. “They’re tarot cards. I can tell yer fortune with ‘em, you know.”

Harukawa didn’t look too amused, and Momota lurched backward. “I don’t trust those kinds of things. Aren’t they kind of occult?! What if you doin’ this summons some kind of demon?”

She waved her hands uselessly, exasperation plain on her girlish face. “Ahh… they’re not occult. The history of tarot is sacred to a lotta pagan religions… I’ll hex you for that, Momota.” 

Momota lurched to the side, practically falling into Hoshi’s lap. The smaller boy quickly scooted away, and Momota’s head landed with a  _ thud _ on the grass. Hoshi chose to ignore the incident entirely. He raised a nonexistent eyebrow at Yumeno. “Fortune telling, huh. I never knew how it worked.” He shrugged. “Never thought I had much of a future, anyway.”

“Well… I need more practice with tarot before I can become a high-level mage. Can’t y’all just let me try?”

She was met with silence, but it was not an unkind one. Rather, the three seemed to be curiously waiting for her to make a move. 

Nodding slightly, Yumeno slid the cards out of their box and began to shuffle them. The action was not merely a way to randomize the cards, but also to cleanse them of any residual energy. She shut her eyes, and posed a question for the cards to answer.

“How are the others doing?”

As the others watched, she carefully cut her deck with her left hand - always the left - and divided the cards into two even piles. From the right pile, she took three cards, laying them face-down on the ground for the others to ogle at. Lavishing the attention, she began to speak. “Here you see before you,” she took on a dramatic tone. “Three-”

“I don’t have time for these kinds of frivolities. Get on with it.” Harukawa huffed, and Momota cast her a sheepish look.

She was in no condition to argue, so Yumeno flipped over the cards one by one, revealing three pictures: an upside-down, elderly man in a hood, a man sitting upright in a bed with several blades behind him, and a woman with a crown who was sitting on a throne. The three others stared at these pictures, trying to deduce their meaning.

“Reverse hermit, nine of swords, and empress,” Yumeno’s voice was hushed as her eyes scanned the cards.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, how about this… we start it with a clincher. Something immediately memorable.” Iruma took a deep inhale through her nose, then immediately proceeded to jab a finger at her comrade. “‘My name is Ryoko Otonashi, and I take dicks like nobody’s business.’”

At the phrase, Tetsuya’s eyes widened, and a crimson blush spread across his face. “D-don’t write that, Iruma-san!” he stammered. “She wants us to take this seriously!”

“Too late, I’m already writin’ it down.”

With a sigh, he snatched the notebook she was holding from her, tore out the page, and tossed it onto a pile of similarly crumpled paper - all defaced with dirty jokes. The writing process seemed to evade the two of them. 

It was a few days before the aforementioned four card players sat down together, but about a week after Junko had given everyone their assignments. As a result, Iruma and Tetsuya had been given that amount of time to get their particular job done - writing in a peculiar notebook that Junko had thrusted at them. Her instructions were vague, but the phrase written on the front - “Ryoko Otonashi’s Memory Notebook” - gave them a pretty clear indication of what they were meant to be doing.

Tetsuya leaned back slightly in his chair, the stiff joints in his arms cracking as he stretched them. Junko was meant to come and pick up the notebook soon, but they had barely made any headway into it. All they had was a scrapped pile of dirty jokes, bad doodles, and a few technological blueprints from this one time they got distracted. Sighing, he gently took the notebook from Iruma and began to write in neat, calculated pencil handwriting. Iruma glanced over his shoulder as he scrawled out information about “Ryoko” and her talent, as well as some information that he had quickly made up about her background.

“Not bad, uh… Titsuya,” Iruma mumbled, earning her a caustic glance from the other. It quickly caused her to shrink back. “Eep! D-don’t look at me like that, you weirdo!” She blubbered, shaken from seemingly nothing. “Wh-what do you want? Do you want me to call you by your real name? Do you want me to call you Master?”  
  
“What?! N-no!” Tetsuya seemed aghast at this, causing him to drop his mechanical pencil. 

An awkward silence settled between the two, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall of the Reserve Course dorm common room. He looked at her, and she looked at him, and he looked at her again, and she looked at him, and a random Reserve Course student who happened to be passing by thought that she was looking at them and quickly walked in the other direction. 

The tension was somewhat broken when Iruma slumped over the table and let out a deep sigh. “This fuckin’ sucks, Tets,” she grumbled, smushing her face into her arms. “When Enoshitma said she had big plans for us, I thought that she’d be makin’ us build robots, or something. Not doin’ grunt work.”

Tetsuya glanced at the clock - Junko had said that she would be there in a few minutes, so it was entirely possible that she could burst through the door and hear what he was going to say. Regardless, he coughed. “I don’t know. But I  _ do _ think that this is better. Who knows what she’s having everyone else do? She doesn’t seem like a good person.” 

Iruma grumbled incomprehensibly yet again, and Tetsuya looked down at his notebook before glancing back at the disgruntled inventor. Reluctantly, he pushed the book towards her. “If it makes you feel better, you can… write one of your dirty jokes in the section about that ‘Matsuda’ guy she mentioned.”

Iruma’s grin could have melted concrete. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” she declared, before grabbing the pencil and going to town.

 

About an hour or so passed before Junko herself entered the dorms, the cold click of her heels on the floor alerting the two to her presence. She stopped in the doorway of the common area, resting a perfectly manicured hand on the doorframe. Her scarlet lips upturned in a smile. “Yoo-hoo, commoners!” She called, causing Tetsuya to flinch. “I’m he-ere! And how are my lovely little faceless Reserve Course students doing today?”  
  
“Shitty,” was Iruma’s only response. 

The model quickly walked over and took the book from where it lay on the table in front of them, so benign that it was hard to believe that it would be used for an apparent world domination plan. Her cyan eyes moved fast as she flipped through the pages. Suddenly, she snapped the book shut with a loud  _ thwap _ . 

“Hey, this is pretty good stuff! A bit vague, but… ehh, what are you gonna do…” her demeanor turned moody as she shrugged, but she returned to normal before either Iruma or Tetsuya could acknowledge the shift in tone. “Y’all actually came through! Of course, I can’t say the same for Tsumugi… she was supposed to meet me here, too.”

Iruma’s eyebrows raised in suspicion. “What do you want with Shittygane?” she inquired, cocking her head to one side. 

“Oh, I had her do some stuff, too. But she didn’t come through, it seems,” she yawned, not seeming too concerned. “Guess someone as plain as her isn’t very reliable.”

“Oi! That’s real fuckin’-”

“A-ah, sorry I’m late!” came a voice from down the hall. The three of them turned to see Shirogane barreling towards them, clutching bundles of fabric. Her glasses bounced up and down on her face as she ran down the hall. When she got to the doorway, she almost tripped, but Junko managed to pull her back up by the shoulder of her blazer. She flashed her a toothy grin.

“Well well well, speak of the devil! We were just talking about you. Right on time.”

Shirogane gave Tetsuya and Iruma a wary look, which they returned sevenfold. She hesitantly handed off the bundles to Junko - upon closer inspection, the clothes resembled a Main Course uniform, brown and rather nondescript. She also had a box of maroon-colored hair dye. Her hands free, she adjusted her glasses on her face nervously. 

After giving the outfit a quick once-over, Junko smiled. “I knew you’d come through, Tsumugi! I never doubted you, even for a second. Yanno that?” Iruma was about to say something in retaliation, but Tetsuya slapped a hand over her mouth before she could get a word out. If Junko noticed this, she didn’t make a move to say anything. “You don’t know how much of a goddamn lifesaver you are. Now, onto my master plan!” 

With that, she gave Shirogane a quick kiss on both cheeks (in the European style, or something), before flouncing off, clothes in tow. The three remaining students could only watch as she shrank to a dot in the distance, punctuated by the slamming of a door.

For once, uncharacteristic of any space with Iruma in it, there was complete and utter silence.

“I really don’t like her,” Shirogane said.

None of the others disagreed.

 

* * *

 

 

Tenko Chabashira was usually an early riser. She loved nothing more than an early-morning run - the perfect way to start the day, in her opinion. However, that morning, she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. It was way too early for that, anyway - she had barely just drifted off. The siren song of the warm comforter called to her, and she sunk deeper into the abyss of sleep. 

A firm knock sounded at the door of her dorm. Normally, Chabashira would have shot up at the sound, but her wooziness stopped her in her tracks. “Chabashira-san?” called a gentle voice from outside. “You didn’t come to the meeting place. Are you quite alright?”

She managed to get out a string of incomprehensible noises that only tangentially resembled speech before sinking back into the covers. The knock and the call came again, but she ignored it. Whoever it was could stand to wait, couldn’t they?

As soon as the thought entered her mind, the door to her room came flying off of its hinges.

Talk about a rude awakening.

Letting out a yell, Chabashira leaped out of bed and entered a fighting stance - though she looked rather silly, standing there in the darkened room in her pajamas. On the other side of the doorway stood Gonta, looking very sheepish, and Toujou, holding a tray with breakfast foods on it.

The larger boy immediately entered a deep bow. “Gonta is very sorry, Chabashira-san!” he barked, seeming rather ashamed. “Gonta acted rashly, and will fix your door.” Before she could say anything, he had picked up the door like it was a piece of cardboard and was busily trying to reattach it to its hinges. 

In a much more elegant fashion, Toujou took a seat on Chabashira’s bed and gently placed the tray in her lap. The action made Chabashira blush. But if Toujou noticed, she paid it no mind. Instead, she gave her a soft smile. “Good morning. You didn’t show up to the meeting place, so we assumed that you would be here. Please, eat.”

Chabashira’s face got redder and redder. “You’re too nice to Tenko, Toujou-san… Tenko didn’t mean to oversleep!” 

“Don’t worry yourself, Chabashira-san!” Gonta hesitated in the middle of trying to hinge the door correctly. “...Gonta wishes that he could have overslept, too.” Chabashira nodded in agreement as she shoved some food into her mouth. Toujou did not respond, but there was a glint in her eyes if only for a moment that alerted the others that she was secretly in concurrence. 

“We had better get going,” was all that she said.

“Agreed! Now, there’s just one thing…” Chabashira jabbed a finger at Gonta. “Get out of Tenko’s room! You’re not one of those perverts who wants to see a girl naked, ehhhh?!”

Stammering an apology, Gonta hurried out of the room, leaving the door crooked. Toujou followed behind him - but she paused in the doorway, gave the door a hard yank, and rendered it upright again.

Chabashira smiled, but she couldn’t help but feel dread.

 

The three of them had been selected by Junko to perform what she referred to as a “very special task”. But judging by how she said it, “special” did not appear to mean “pleasant”. They, three of the strongest people in the class, were meant to act as bodyguards to a rather peculiar girl who Junko described as being “dumb as a rock”. Really, all they had to do was stay out of her sight and make sure that no one made any moves on her - it seemed easy enough. Chabashira boasted that it was a job so easy that anyone could do it, though Toujou didn’t seem quite as much at ease as she was.

It was due to this that the three of them found themselves crouching behind a bush on that day. By all means, Gonta should not have been able to properly conceal himself behind it, but his hair worked miracles. So now, the bush simply looked like a very tall bush.

The three of them peered out from behind it, sweeping the not-very-interesting campus that lay before them. The girl they were meant to be focusing on was in plain sight - a girl with a pretty face, but one that communicated that there was little going on upstairs. She was humming absentmindedly as she walked along, seemingly oblivious to everyone else. 

“So… remind Tenko why we’re doing this, again?” Chabashira muttered, squinting to try and get a better view. 

Gonta looked physically uncomfortable. “We’re under onus to Enoshima-san-”

“Tenko knows that! But why this girl?”

Toujou simpered, not seeming to know the answer to that question either. “You heard the instructions that Enoshima-san gave, no? They were rather vague… the only clear one was for us not to interact with someone named ‘Matsuda’ under any circumstances.”

“What would Tenko want with some random boy, anyway?” Chabashira scoffed, crossing her arms. 

Before Toujou could respond, however, Gonta gasped. “She's going that way,” he stated, nodding in the direction of the girl. “Should Gonta follow?”

And so the three of them managed to get out from behind the bush and start heading in the same direction as the girl. They soon found out that the job was extremely easy - all they had to do was to keep a safe distance away from the girl, and that was that. She never looked back once as she skipped along cheerily. 

While they were quiet at first, soon the three bodyguards were chatting up a storm. The atmosphere, oddly enough, was ripe with camaraderie. Chabashira couldn't help but smile. Maybe this job wasn't so bad. She was getting to spend some much-needed time with her friends, after all. What could be bad about that?

But, as with many who ask rhetorical questions, she was about to find out the answer. 

Surprisingly, it was Gonta who noticed first. The girl, a long way ahead of them, had stopped in her tracks at a certain area. Hesitantly, he pointed a finger at her. “What is she doing?” he asked, his voice raising slightly in concern. 

It only took them a few more steps to realize that there was something seriously wrong with this picture. 

Because right in front of the girl, swinging back and forth on a rope, was a body. 

It took Toujou slamming a hand over her mouth for Chabashira to not scream her lungs out. 

 

* * *

 

 

After Yumeno had described the meanings of the cards, a hush had fallen over her three compatriots. Momota and Hoshi appeared to be contemplating the meaning of her predictions (considering Hoshi’s character, he was probably psychoanalyzing them), though Harukawa didn’t look like she particularly cared very much. Yumeno could have stopped there, but something compelled her to do another reading. She had a captive audience, after all, and practice continued to be important.

Without a word, she shuffled the deck again. Momota’s eyes widened as she cut the cards, but he didn’t seem to have anything in particular to say. Yumeno took another three cards, laying them out on the grass in front of her. 

Reverse hanged man, reverse king of pentacles, six of swords.

Harukawa crossed her arms. “I still don’t believe this, you know. It’s just superstition.”

“I’ll… I’ll turn you into a frog for that,” Yumeno murmured, the threat very low in energy. Hoshi chuckled. 

 

* * *

 

 

The ceiling fan droned incessantly. The noise would have been annoying and mindless to most, but for once, Kaede found herself embracing it. It was better, at least, than the rancor she had been inadvertently forced to listen to for the past several hours. Her head throbbed like an angry crowd at a heavy metal concert, causing her to rub her temples with her pointers in a fruitless attempt to rid herself of the pain. 

Apparently, Junko had heard about her musical prowess, about the piano competitions that had made her notorious. She had heard, and she had figured that she could use this to her advantage. Her text to Kaede instructed her to meet her at a room in the Main Course dorms, where she'd been for ages since. 

Junko didn't want for her to play piano, though. Instead, she sat her down and announced that she would be in charge of the sound editing for her “movie”. Kaede felt her lip curl at the mention of the filmed massacre, but said nothing. Silence was more than enough. 

The sound editing software had proven easy enough to work with, especially with Kaede’s sensitive musician’s hearing. But it made things worse when she had to actually play back the audio - every play through revealed a new sound that she hadn't noticed before, a new scream to fine-tune or a new  _ squelch _ of some unknown liquid hitting the floor. 

She wasn't alone in the room, but she might as well have been. 

There was another boy, a main course student who was assigned (or being forced? Kaede wasn’t sure) to edit the visual parts of the video. She didn't often glance in his direction for fear of actually having to watch it, but she soon found out that she didn't even have to. He made little effort to make conversation, and only once turned his heavily bagged eyes to ogle at her. 

Kaede’s headache pulsed like nothing she had ever experienced before, the remnants of the audio still swirling around in her head. Gently closing her eyes, she envisioned a fantasy that she'd held since she was a child - herself, playing piano at Carnegie Hall in front of a giant, enthusiastic audience. 

This was a significant downgrade. 

How did it end up like this?

The other boy coughed, causing her to glance over at him. His computer screen was stuck on a vague shot of the video, the backlight illuminating his gaunt features. He looked as though he was about to open his mouth-

But Kaede gave him a withering look, and proceeded to slide the headphones she had been using back over her ears. 

She may have felt the worst she ever felt, but at least she could be alone with those feelings. 

Time passed, and the two may as well have been in separate worlds. 

She hoped that the others were at least having a better time than she was.

 

* * *

 

It had taken everyone a long, long while to recover from what they just saw, so long that they almost lost sight of the strange girl. But Toujou seemed to be putting on a brave face, though Gonta looked like he might cry at any minute. Chabashira herself wasn't sure she was doing much better. 

It had been several hours since that incident, and their excursions had fortunately been rather mundane aside from the body. Things appeared to be looking up - literally anything was a step up from discovering a dead body, though. The three had even managed to kindle a few conversations, however mundane they may have been.

But a buzz sounded from Chabashira and Toujou’s phones (Gonta didn’t have one), effectively killing any discussions they were hoping to have. The former felt dread cloud the atmosphere as she reached for the device - but her eyebrows raised in suspicion once she glanced at the screen. The text was not at all from Junko. Rather, it was from Mukuro, who she vaguely remembered as being Junko’s sister. The girl hadn’t spoken very much when they had met, but her presence was intimidating enough to stick with a person. 

Also, it was hard to forget someone who had pulled a gun on you. 

_ Meet up with me on the rooftop of the Main Course building. Come alone. _

Chabashira read the text aloud to the other two, then glanced up from her phone. “Come alone…?”

“Gonta doesn’t like this…” the entomologist nervously pushed his fingers together.

Toujou closed her eyes, her face taking on a stern look before softening slightly. “Come, now. Judging by her manner, she seems to be the tamer of the two sisters… if we cooperate, things will surely go well.” She clasped her hands together. “Sometimes, one must do things that they do not want to do. Duty before self is important.”

“Erm, y-yes! Gonta will do it, if it is something that a true gentleman would do.” Even as Gonta spoke the words, however, he still looked uncertain. Chabashira felt doubt creeping into her chest as well, but she tried to cast it aside for the sake of making the others feel more confident.

Regaining some of her courageous energy, she clenched her fists. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

But as with most things that were happening as of late, they would soon come to regret their forced eagerness.

 

As active as she was, even Chabashira’s thighs ached after climbing up the many steps of the building. You’d think that a building that fancy could afford to install elevators, she thought to herself as she made the ascent that put mountains to shame. The three of them had started out strong, but after a while she could hear Gonta struggling to catch his breath. Toujou seemed fine - Chabashira found herself wondering how this was possible, before realizing that Toujou’s job required her to be on her feet most hours of the day anyway. This was probably not a major feat for her. 

But they eventually reached the door that led up to the rooftop, and the three of them struggled to fit through it all at once before realizing that going out one at a time would probably be the better option. One by one, they filed out of the door and onto the roof. 

The first thing Chabashira noticed was the desks. They were scattered on top of the roof - the exact last place she would expect a desk to be. They were in varying states of decay, some being nearly new while others were covered with graffiti and generally in a state of shambles. It must have taken someone a lot of work to move them all up there, especially without any hassle. 

Standing a few feet in front of the trio, her back turned and her hands on her hips, was Junko Enoshima. 

Chabashira almost let out a screen, but she swallowed it back when Toujou gave her a pointed look. It felt heavy in her throat. 

“A-ah, uh, Enoshima-san!” Gonta stammered, trying to appear polite in the face of the shock. “Gonta didn't know you would be up here, and-”

Suddenly, Junko craned her neck towards them. Now that she got a better look, she noticed that her eyes were more almond-shaped, her face spattered with freckles that had definitely not been there beforehand. 

“...It’s just me,” she said, in a voice distinctly gentler than Junko’s own. 

Chabashira’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Ah! Ikusaba-san! Tenko got your message, and came straight a-” her relief was quickly replaced by confusion. “What are you wearing?” 

Mukuro glanced down at her outfit, as if noticing for the first time that she was wearing it. Chabashira expected her to blush, but her expression remained stoic. “I'm… practicing,” was the only explanation she offered. Gonta raised his eyebrows in anticipation of more information, but it never came. 

Toujou smiled, seemingly remembering how the elder twin was mistreated by Junko. “It's good to see you, Ikusaba-san. We're at your service.” At this, Gonta nodded feverishly, but it was clear that he could not match Toujou’s calm. 

Maybe Chabashira was overreacting. Maybe Mukuro wasn't so bad after all. 

The girl’s eyes gleamed, but the corners of her mouth barely moved. Vaguely, she gestured at the pile of desks that was collecting dust nearby. “...Help me with these, will you?” 

Gonta nodded nervously, walked over to the pile, and began hoisting one of the desks. Then, he stopped. “It may not be any of Gonta’s business to ask this, but how is this tied into guarding that girl?” 

“It's not,” Mukuro said. Once again, Gonta waited for an explanation, but was left hanging. She coughed. “We’re gonna throw these off the building. Go on.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Toujou and Tenko joined Gonta in retrieving the desks from the pile. And the desks began falling from the roof like the world’s largest chunks of hail, hitting the ground below with a  _ crash _ . Chabashira was thinking to herself that this was probably the worst possible way to get rid of garbage, when she heard Mukuro gently clear her throat out of the corner of her ear. But the sound was soon lost against the sound of the desks shattering to pieces. Curious, she turned to take a surreptitious glance at the soldier - and noted that her face had taken on a more Junko-esque expression. Chabashira’s spine rattled, but she couldn't place the cause of her discomfort. 

And then, from below, came a sickening noise. 

_ Crunch _ . 

All at once, the three froze. Gonta was still holding a desk over his head, even. Their eyes slowly traveled downward, until they were peering at the earth below them. 

More specifically, at the barely visible remains of a body that were spread out on the pavement beneath.

This time, Chabashira actually did let out a terrified scream. Gonta was agape, and Toujou looked like she was sweating bullets. The reality of the situation fell upon them like an anvil. 

Before any of them had time to articulate their thoughts, however, Mukuro was escorting them to the area behind the door from which they had come. 

“Ikusaba-san, wh-”

“Shh. I have to go do something. Don't come out until I say it's safe.”

None of them were in any condition to disobey, despite their muscles screaming to run out of there. So this was shock, Chabashira pondered. The door slammed behind them, and the trio could acutely hear the sound of Mukuro’s Junko-style heels click-clacking against the endless stairs. 

They were left alone with their thoughts. 

Gonta’s eyes began to water, and were soon filled with tears that threatened to trickle down his face. Toujou gave him a reassuring pat on the back, but her hands (usually so poised) were shaking. All Chabashira herself could do was sit, barely registering the sensation of her own fingers touching her arms. 

The wind swirled, and the faint sound of Mukuro monologuing was carried upon it.

There was nothing to be said. 

 

Time passed, and then passed again. After what must have been around twenty minutes, the sound of heels returned. The door swung open, and Mukuro entered the group’s field of vision once again. Seemingly not caring about the fact that the forced bodyguards were clearly traumatized, she cocked her head and put a hand on her hip. “...Thanks for your help.”

“W-we…” Toujou murmured, her voice wavering in a manner uncharacteristic of the graceful maid. “We killed a person.”

Mukuro shut her eyes. 

“Welcome to the club. You should probably leave, now.” 

Despite the fact that a newfound terror had taken hold of Chabashira, she and the others did not attempt to argue further. They were just about to go back downstairs when Mukuro spoke up again. 

“By the way, that girl you're guarding… Ryoko. If you don't tell her your name, she'll forget about you. There's no need to hide from her sight.”

None of them thanked her for the knowledge. 

The trip down the stairs was a long and silent one. 

 

* * *

 

 

Yumeno put a hand to her mouth and let out an ungraceful yawn. “Nnh… tarot is hard work,” she mumbled, shuffling her deck. “I'm gonna take a break.”

Momota seemed relieved at this - he'd been on edge the whole time, his distrust of the occult preventing him from fully enjoying the whole experience. It kind of annoyed Yumeno that he was being such a weenie, but she cast her thoughts on that aside. Maybe she would need to do some magic with him before he actually felt comfortable with it. 

Harukawa was checking her phone, not seeming particularly interested in what she had to say. But she didn't really care what non believers thought, anyway. 

Hoshi closed his eyes as if he were concentrating. “Mhmm… I’m not that experienced with this kind of mystic stuff. The last time I did it was on a date with my girl, ages back.” He fiddled with his lighter, absentmindedly flicking the cap on and off. “But that's in the past.”

No one acknowledged this, at first, but what he was saying soon sunk in. 

The other three turned to him, gave him a look, and almost simultaneously asked him the same question. 

“With your… what?” 

He sighed. “My girlfriend. I never told you?”

Momota shook his head. “Nuh-uh, no way this is true. You're pulling an Ouma on me, ain't ya?”

The smaller boy quickly pulled out his phone, swiped the screen a few times, and held out the device for everyone to see. On the dimly lit (seriously, Yumeno had to squint to see) display was a picture of Hoshi, sans his iconic hat, and a much taller girl with long hair and a black headband. The picture was old, judging by the fact that both of them were grinning at the camera. 

Harukawa sighed. “You're kidding.”

“Nah. I studied abroad a few years back, we met then.”

“Ahhh…” Yumeno leaned in, intrigued by the new development. “Are you two still together?”

Hoshi’s bemused look faltered for a moment, before returning to normal. “She died last year. Car accident.”

No one seemed to have anything to say to that. 

Nostalgia clouding his eyes, he continued unwarrantedly. “Back then, I kept getting these invitations to this underground tennis tournament… run by these mafia guys, or somethin’. The letters were incessant. I had half a mind to march right over there and give ‘em a piece of my mind.”

“Did you?” Harukawa asked. 

“No. I had this weird gut feeling about it - almost like deja-vu?” He shrugged. “Sometimes, though, I wonder what woulda happened if I went.”

“Probably gotten arrested… or into some kind of legal trouble.” Yumeno stated, surprisingly matter-of-fact. Harukawa raised an eyebrow. 

Momota snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah! Speakin’ of getting in trouble with the law, did I ever tell you about the time I cheated on the astronaut test?”

“The time you  _ what _ ?” Harukawa breathed, raising her other eyebrow so that she looked properly surprised. Yumeno wasn't even sure how to feel about the development. 

“It's true, I'm tellin’ ya!” Momota stroked his goatee. “Ya can't take the test if you're in high school. But I'm destined to be famous in space!” He made a fist, and raised it in a dramatic pose. “So, I got this guy I knew to forge me some papers so I could get in.”

No one seemed sure what to make of this. 

“Did you pass?” Yumeno asked. 

Momota nodded sagely. “Yep, sure did. ‘Course, they found me out, and they said I could have gotten in major trouble because of it. But they told me that they'd let me in when I finished high school!”

“Lucky you, then.” said Hoshi. 

Yumeno rubbed her eyes. “I wanna get back to tarot soon, I'm feeling better rested,” for a moment, her laconic gaze landed on the only other girl in the area. “Harukawa, do you have any stories?”

“No.” The girl’s stare burned like liquid nitrogen. 

“O-okay, moving on…”

 

* * *

 

 

“We could get in trouble for this. Like, serious trouble.”

“I know.” 

“Do you remember that security guy from the beginning of last year? Guy’s dangerous. Reminds me of the one time I encountered a bunch of wolves while camping out in Hokkaido. Actually, I think they might have known Gonta-kun, but I’m not sure.”

“Yes, I do remember.” 

“So, that's why I want to ask you-”

“What is it?” 

“Why are you just walking out in the open like that?” 

Shinguuji blinked, then blinked again. His cadmium eyes fell upon Amami, who was currently pressed up against one of the walls of the Main Course faculty building halls like he was in a spy movie. It was night, late at night, the night after the bodyguard trio had done their work and the uno players had played cards like lazy jackasses instead of doing real work. 

He cocked his head as if he were sizing up the other boy. “Whatever do you mean by ‘out in the open’?”

Amami still looked like he was trying to imitate  _ Flat Stanley _ . “You can't just walk out there like that. We're not allowed in here - hell, Main Course students aren't even allowed in here. I'm surprised we even  _ got _ in here.”

He folded his bandaged arms. “Kukuku… I  _ do _ have my connections, Amami-kun.” 

“...Right,” Amami nervously pulled at one of his earrings. “But why are you walkin’ out where someone can see you? If we're found out, we're dead. Deader than dead. You remember what we heard on Iruma-san’s drone thing, right?”

“Amami-kun,” the anthropologist’s voice was soft. “I know the hum of human activity. It's a beautiful thing. But aside from us, this building is devoid of it.” He spread his arms out to either side of him. “We're alone in here.”

“...Oh.”

Shinguuji adjusted his mask. “Now, if you'll kindly peel yourself off the wall, I do believe that we will have a much easier time getting to where we need to go.” 

Amami did just that, and the two boys hurried down the dead silent hallway together. 

 

It was fortunate, Amami thought, that he had been assigned this task. To be fair, being assigned  _ any  _ task by Junko Enoshima was unfortunate. But considering the circumstances he once found himself in, he couldn't have asked for better timing. 

_ Heeeey, Rantarou! _ the text read.  _ I'm assigning roles to you and your sweet little classmates. I was just wondering if you'd be a dear and help me gather some deets on something the school’s been working on - does Kamukura Project ring a bell? You should be able to find info in the faculty building. Toodles! xoxo _

Aside from the obnoxious ending, the message caused a feeling Amami couldn't quite place to swirl within his stomach. So it was because of this that he had found himself in the building along with Korekiyo Shinguuji, who had also taken something of an interest in the mysterious project. 

(“Why do you wanna know about that, anyway?” Amami had asked him at one point, curious. 

At this, Shinguuji had chuckled. “While I specialize in traditions and cultural habits, human interest stories are still anthropology, no? And this is certainly an interest story.”

Amami couldn't find a way to refute that.) 

Shinguuji came to a halt outside of a particular room, his flowing hair losing its motion. Amami managed to stop before his face became acquainted with Shinguuji’s back. 

“A computer room…” He couldn't see his face, but Amami assumed that it was as unreadable as ever. “Rumor has it that important files are kept within. Do we cross the threshold?”

Amami didn't even have to consider. 

“We do, Shinguuji-kun.”

Shinguuji nodded, and the two silently entered. 

 

The description of “computer room” was fairly accurate for the area, but it was admittedly a pathetic imitation of the term. Only one computer stood on a desk pushed against the far wall of the room. Its screen emitted a soft, pulsing glow, illuminating the bookshelves that lined the walls and the various couches and chairs positioned throughout. The two boys walked towards the computer, the sound of their steps echoing even on the carpeted floor. The silence was so noticeable that it were almost as if it was a third party trailing behind them, cautiously watching their every move.

Amami and Shinguuji eventually reached the computer table, the latter moving aside so that the former had control of the keyboard. “I’m afraid I am… not very skilled with technology,” Shinguuji admitted. He rested his bandaged hands on the desk. Amami nodded, staring down the computer screen. It was currently fixed on a plain, light-blue backdrop with a solitary text box in its center. The cursor blinked, and a single word was written above the box -

_ Password? _

“Aughh…” Amami’s fingers, originally poised to start typing, hung loosely in the air. “I didn’t consider this. Looks like I’m gonna have to hack it.”

Shinguuji raised an eyebrow. “You know how to hack?”

“No. But I’m going to enter passwords until I get it right.”

“...Kukuku, fair enough.”

Amami laced his fingers, giving them a quick stretch in front of him to get himself psyched up. Then, he began to input words.

“This one’s probably too easy, but…  _ izurukamukura _ ?” He muttered, his fingers flying over the keys.

_ Denied! _

“Mhmm… I thought as much.  _ Kamukuraizuru _ , then?”

_ Denied! _

“How about  _ kamukuraproject _ ?”

_ Denied! _

“... _ jinkirigiriisaballer69 _ ?”

_ Denied! _

Amami shrugged, a sigh escaping his lips. “Well, I’m out of ideas. What do you think we should do?”

Wordlessly, Shinguuji put a finger to his chin. He appeared to be pondering something. Then, he closed his eyes and nodded. Amami watched as he walked over to the desk, pulled open one of the drawers, and removed a single slip of folded paper from within. Upon unfolding it, the message written upon it was clear:  
  
_ Password: “pass” _

Amami’s celadon eyes settled on Shinguuji’s, and the two of them stared at each other blankly. Not really having anything in particular to say, Amami turned back to the computer. “Guess that was easier than I thought,” he murmured, scanning the desktop.

In addition to some typical Internet browsers, a few folders labeled the desktop. Most of them had vague names, such as “Roster” and “Candidates”. Others were more specific - there was one labeled “Health Files” and another marked “Festival Plans”.

“...So the Main Course is allowed to partake in a cultural festival, and yet we are not,” Shinguuji said behind him, almost talking to himself. Amami grunted, signalling him to be quiet. Festivals were not important right now. He soon located a folder named quite simply “Kamukura Project”, and hovered over it with the cursor. Swallowing back his doubts, he gave it a firm click.

The screen immediately sprung to life, projecting all manner of documents. The white light coming from the computer caused Amami to squint, but he quickly recovered. As Shinguuji observed him, he clicked on a file labeled “overview”. 

The first thing he saw was a picture of a man in a hospital gown. Upon closer inspection, however, he looked closer to his age - he stared at the camera with an intensity far beyond his years, however. His carmine eyes seemed to follow Amami no matter where he looked at the computer from, so he quickly scrolled past the image and began to read the text below in a hushed mutter.

“Izuru Kamukura 1.0-” This part made him stop, but Shinguuji motioned for him to go on. “Izuru Kamukura 1.0 is the product of the Hope Cultivation Plan, the ultimate research in talent from Hope’s Peak Academy. An ultimately talentless student from the Reserve Course was selected from a pool of potential subjects, and had…  _ talent _ neurologically implanted in his psyche. However, he was unable to handle the procedure, and his personality had to be…  _ suppressed _ ?” His breath caught in his throat. “What… what is this?”

“Playing God…” Shinguuji’s fingers gripped the desk tightly. “Go on.”

“...Right.” Amami swallowed back a gulp and continued to read. “All of the subject’s memories were suppressed, transforming him into a different person - one whose speciality is talent itself. Kamukura is able to draw from every talent that we have researched in the past. He displays a genius-level IQ, and is truly the symbol of hope for all mankind… even worthy of being called the Super High School Level H-hope?” His voice faltered towards the end, his hands shaking. His normal coolness nearly suppressed by fear, he turned to the other boy with concern wrought on his features. “What… what is this?”   
For once, Shinguuji was at a loss for words. “I’m…” he shook his head. “I’m afraid I do not know. This is far beyond me,” his eyes were wide. “What could Enoshima-san want with this?”

“The Super High School Level Hope…” Amami lowered his head. He thought back to the encounter he had what seemed like ages ago, with the boy who would probably be salivating if he heard about this project. The one who made Tetsuya give up his nickname.

_ “If it means that the talented people can reach the peak of hope… then the ordinary masses should just die.” _

“1.0… were they perhaps planning more of these?” Shinguuji mused, but Amami wasn’t paying attention. Slowly, he began moving the mouse.

“I don’t know. We have to get out of here. I really don’t like this, Shinguuji-kun.” He clicked out of the folder, and began navigating the cursor to the logout button.

Suddenly, he felt warm bandages against the back of his hand. Shinguuji was trying to move the mouse. “There were some other things in there. Perhaps-”

“What are you doing?  _ We need to get out of here _ . This isn’t meant for us, and especially not for Enoshima-san.” 

“I-”

And then the two of them stopped.

Neither of them had noticed, but in their struggle, they had accidentally opened up another folder. Or maybe it was simply fate, something that was destined to happen no matter how hard they tried to avoid it. The folder was the one, innocuous folder simply labeled “Candidates”, so nondescript that they would not have given it a second glance. But because of a fumble, they were now being forced to.

Both of them took in the sights being displayed on the computer scene, dread slowly filling the room like a thick fog. “This… this is-” Amami put a hand over the bottom of his face.

Three words that he never expected to come out of Shinguuji’s mouth at any point did just that.

“What the  _ hell _ …?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did they see? What's everyone else up to? What's next for the bodyguards? Is asking you questions a really cheap tactic to try to create suspense? The answer to all of these questions is "yes".
> 
> sou (gonta) notes: hi hi! I'm gonna be going on a road trip this week, so I'll have lots of time to write, but no way to post. Expect the next chapter in maybe a week or so, since I won't be working on anything in between!  
> By the way, the thing Hoshi says about his girlfriend is from his FTEs! I promise I'm not inserting my own ocs into this (even though the design i made for her is mine). I'd like to think im above that LMAO... but you'll likely be hearing more abt her from me at some point in the future ;^)
> 
> kirby (starrynova) notes: You know you done goofed when Shingucky curses.  
> Hey read my [fangan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10510020/chapters/23193099) and read Sou's [fangan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8276209/chapters/18959857)
> 
> (If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping us a comment and/or kudos! we love getting feedback and hearing theories. Thank you!)


	10. The Fools in their Tower (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... hi. We swear we can explain our super long absence - we both got hit super hard by schoolwork, mental health bullshit, and irl obligations that prevented us from finishing this chapter in a "week" like we said we were going to. We'll try to get the remaining chapters out in a fairly timely manner.  
> Last chapter we forgot to explain that these events aren't linearly detailed - they take place at different times, it's just a matter of which ones are the most pertinent and contain the most interesting info. Think of it as an anthology of sorts (this is part of the reason this chapter has taken so long).  
> The actual order of the events, for reference, is as follows: ouma and angie -> kiibo/tetsuya, iruma, shirogane -> saihara -> kaede -> yumeno, momota, hoshi, harukawa = tenko, gonta, toujou (the events occur around the same time) -> amami, shinguuji. We should also note that while we're not changing the rating of this fic, this chapter contains mentions of gore and emetophobia (skip ouma and angie's part to avoid the second).  
> Any confusion of dr0-related events is due to me not having read dr0 in a while (though Kirby's read it fairly recently), and the fact that we really had to be meticulous in order to make everything fit together. we hope you'll forgive us for any errors or jilted writing, the last couple of weeks have been pretty hard.  
> Still, we hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Alright,” Yumeno stretched, then popped another cheese snack into her mouth. Though maybe this wasn’t the greatest audience, she was at least managing to get some good practice done with her tarot. The disastrous game of Uno had all but slipped from the minds of her classmates, it seemed. She blinked lazily, but allowed a small smile to cross her face. “I'm gonna do another one… if that's okay.”

At first, no one seemed to have any objections to her proposition. But as the magician went to shuffle the deck and draw another card from it, Harukawa suddenly snapped to attention. Her carmine eyes scanned the horizon. But a moment later, her focus returned to the others. 

“There's someone else here,” she stated, her face still set in a scowl. 

“There's…” Momota made a vague gesture. “There's people everywhere, Harumaki. We're on a public campus.” 

She shook her head. “No, not that… and don't call me that, if you value your life.” Harukawa raised an eyebrow in the direction of something behind Yumeno. “Was that potted plant always there?” 

The group collectively turned around. Indeed, she wasn't just seeing things - there was an innocuous-looking plant sitting in a large, ceramic pot. It was the kind of thing that one would expect to see in one of the forms - not outside on the quad, where there were actual plants growing out of the ground. 

After an awkward period in which none of them made a move towards the mysterious thing, Hoshi sighed. Dusting off his hands on his pants, he straggled to his feet and walked towards the plant. Without even peering into the pot, he reached in with one hand. 

When he pulled his hand out, it was not empty. Rather, it was clutching the scruff of someone's neck. A  _ person _ had been eavesdropping on them from within the pot. Cursing herself for not even noticing, Yumeno got a good look at the interloper, who was currently being held by one hand as far away from the ground as a person as short as Hoshi could hold them. 

The person appeared to be a boy, but it was hard to tell - he had the plainest, most unobtrusive face that any of the group had ever seen. Everything about him was unmemorable, in fact. From his boyish figure to his bowl-cut brown hair, he had an air of what could only be described as blandness. 

He stared at the group, dark eyes filled with the same expression as a child caught sticking their hand in the cookie jar. And Yumeno, Harukawa, and Momota stared back. 

Shaking his head, Hoshi whirled the boy around to face him. His eyelids were slightly lowered, though the gesture lent no softness to his gaze. The two leered at each other for a while, neither making a move (though the other boy didn't even seem to be able to make one). 

Then, the other boy smiled. “Oh! You lookin’ for the Hope’s Peak Elementary School, or something?” He chuckled, looking as unperturbed as someone who was being held three feet off the ground could possibly look. “Man, I’ve been waiting my whole life to say that. I never expected to find someone who looks more like a kid than I do, eh?”

The bemusement drained from Hoshi’s face, replaced with simple annoyance. “...Shut up.”

The boy’s face took on a surprised look. “Whoa there, Freeman. What’s up with those pipes of yours? I didn’t… know it was possible for someone my age to talk like that.”

“Gh, I immediately don’t like this guy…” Momota was as good as keeping a poker face as always - which is to say, not at all. “Hoshi, you should fight him!”

“...Because?”

“Because you would win!”

He shrugged. “Fair enough. You ever get shanked, kid?”

The still-nameless boy was beginning to sweat, so Yumeno decided to step in for once. “Hey… that’s not fair. We don’t even know this guy.” She rubbed her eyes sleepily before turning to him. “You were… listening to us. In a potted plant. Why are you even here, anyway?”

After taking a moment to mull this over, the kid smirked. He jabbed a finger in Harukawa’s direction. “Maybe if ya get onee-chan over there to lift her skirt up, I’ll tell you.” 

Before the last word had even fully left his mouth, the girl was on him. One moment, Harukawa was sitting on the ground alongside Momota and Yumeno. The next, she had a knife pressed to the interloper’s throat as if this was something that she regularly did. 

Momota stumbled backwards, but Yumeno merely blinked. “Where’d… where'd you get that thing from?” She asked. 

“It was a souvenir.”

“Oh.”

The boy, who was beginning to sweat, squeezed his eyes shut. “Alright, alright! I'll talk! Just don't kill me!” He whimpered. 

That was all the confirmation that Harukawa and Hoshi needed. The former withdrew the knife, and the latter let go of the back of his collar, letting him hit the ground rather unceremoniously. After dusting himself off, the boy took a cross-legged seat just outside of the little gathering. He scratched the back of his neck. “Geez. You're all a bunch of crazies, aren't you?”

“Hey, that doesn't even answer any of our questions!” Momota stammered. “Who  _ are _ you, anyway?” 

The boy smirked. “Name’s Yuuto Kamishiro, the Super High School Level Secret Agent.”

“You’re a Super High School Level? I’ve never heard of you.”

“Well  _ duh _ , genius. I’m a secret agent! If you haven’t heard of me, then I’m doing my job right.”

Everyone took a moment to mull this over. During that instant, Yuuto almost tried to run away, but an icy glare from Harukawa was enough to keep him frozen to his spot. He continued. “I got wind of some interesting stuff that concerns you guys, so I decided to mosey on over.”

“Spit it out, then,” Harukawa muttered.

“I was gettin’ to that, onee-chan!” Yuuto’s eyes darted from right to left, encompassing the whole group. “So I wanted to ask you. There’s this girl, Ryoko Otonashi… would any of you happen to know where I could find her?”

A hush fell over the four Reserve Course students, but none of them made a move to warn Yuuto against the girl. While they had heard a few things about her having ties to Junko, none of them were quite sure. Still, the name carried a sense of dread.

It was Yumeno who finally spoke up. “Uh…” She tilted her head to the side, deep in thought. “I think I heard she was hangin’ around the old building. I dunno…” 

Yuuto nodded, his face lit up with a grin. “That’s all the information I needed. Thankya, onee-chan!” 

As he got up, Harukawa crossed her arms. “I guess that’s the extent of this interaction, then? Good. Now go away.” 

As Yuuto ran off towards the building, the others watched as he faded into a mere dot among the crowds of students milling around the campus. “Don’t get yourself killed, kid,” Hoshi shouted after him, but he was already too far gone to hear him.

 

* * *

 

“Heeey, don’t look at me like that! It’s weird.”

There was no response to Ouma’s claim, much to the leader’s chagrin. As much as he liked being listened to, he also appreciated it when his commands were somewhat heeded. But though the disparate light of the room cast shadows on his face that were perfectly befitting of an evil supreme leader, the impression was lost on his captive audience. 

He pouted. “Fine! Don’t listen to me, then. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’ll all be listening to me soon.” Ouma puffed out his chest triumphantly, but his proud airs quickly collapsed as the reality of what he was going to do set in. “...Bleh. The one time I actually have people at my command, and it’s for some nasty stuff. Nasty stuff is  _ not _ on the same level as my pranks! I tried to tell Enoshima-chan that, but-”

“Kokichiiii!” A pealing voice sounded from the other side of the room, prompting Ouma to look away from the people he was currently addressing. On the other side of the room stood Angie, the fingers on her right hand enclosed around part of a reclining chair. She looked as though she was pointedly trying not to think about the fact that someone was tied to the chair, as evident by the ropes that encircled the back and the sweaty hand that Ouma could just barely see grasping its arm. Though she smiled, her cheerful expression didn’t fill him with much joy himself. “Do you wanna have them do it now?” she chirped. He searched for an underlying tone of regret or unwillingness anywhere in her voice, trying desperately to scrounge it up from wherever it was, but it was no use. Angie never took anything seriously. Not even now.

Ouma choked back a sigh. He turned back to face the small group of reserve course students he had been speaking to, trying not to look them in their glassy, dead eyes. He presumed that they didn’t really see him - what with brainwashing and all - and took the moment to wonder to himself how it all ended up like this.

But when he turned back to Angie, his normal mischievous grin was alight on his face. Clapping his hands together, he tried to push back the dread he was feeling. “Alright!” he cheered. “Operation ‘mess up an old guy, for whatever reason’ is a go!”

Angie nodded feverishly in response, but the group of students just kept staring. He felt their eyes on his back as if they were insects crawling over him.

Great.

 

Unfortunately, the two of them had been saddled with what Ouma assumed was probably the worst task of the bunch. He couldn’t imagine why, but one of Junko’s texts to him (he assumed that it hadn’t been sent to Angie) stated that he reminded her of herself. He’d deleted the text as soon as he had laid eyes on it, but the statement still echoed in his mind. 

Ouma was a lot of things: a liar, a self-proclaimed evil supreme leader, a former student council president. But he didn’t think he was anything like Junko.

But back to the point. Junko had sent him and Angie a “lite” version of the video they had been forced to watch.  _ I juuuust made some teensie-weensie edits here and there. It’ll brainwash any poor scrubs you show it to! If you don’t wanna do the dirty work yourself, just show it to some other kids. _ Thinking about how lightly she spoke of brainwashing people made him particularly wary, but nothing could prepare him for the fact that she intended to have the two torture someone.

Yep, just another favor for a typical supermodel. 

He didn’t recognize the man tied to the armchair - age marred his features. While he may have once been attractive, that trait had faded as he had gotten older. There was also the fact that he looked like he was ready to shit his pants with fear, and that’s not an expression that does anyone any favors. From what he and Angie had been told, he was a Steering Committee member who had been captured and brought down to this room in the Reserve Course building basement - and that’s it. For someone so talkative, Junko sure did skimp when it came to the important details. 

Angie, surprisingly, was the one to recruit the other students. She’d managed to charm them with her sunshiny personality for long enough for them to forget about the weird prejudice most of the Reserve Course held towards Class 1R, only to make them forget even more than just that with the video. She’d managed to herd them to the room about an hour beforehand. 

“These are Angie’s new friends!” she’d squealed, her face alight with glee. “Angie wants to call them Kamisama’s Prophets.”

He’d managed to hold off his own feelings of revulsion long enough to get out a “Nishishi, that’s an interesting name. I was thinking of recruiting them into DICE, though.”

Angie cocked her head in confusion, since he’d never really even explained what DICE even was. “Hmmm… Oh! Angie knows a good name!” She clasped her hands together. “The Reserve Course Student Council!”

“Huh. Works!”

 

And that had led up to this. There was no sound in the room save for the labored breathing of their captive. Ouma couldn't bring himself to walk around to see his face, but he knew his expression was probably pained beyond measure. 

How did he, someone with such an aversion to death, wound up on torture duty? 

Making up some crap off the top of his head about his own evil leadership, he sent the “student council” over to Angie and the man with a wave of his hand and watched as the girl went to work. 

“Hiya, hiya! How you doin’?” She puffed out her cheeks and childishly squished them with her hands. Ouma found himself amazed at how composed she was acting. He would have almost been convinced that she was enjoying it, except for the fact that she too had been viciously uncomfortable at the gym meeting. But that mood had passed. The other students continued to just stand there, like hollow tin soldiers. 

Angie continued. “We’re the reserve course student council! And…” she appeared sympathetic for a moment. “Angie's sorry for what she has to do. Kamisama didn't ordain this. But kamisama says that Angie and her friends have to do this to be safe, and he's always right!” 

The man tied to the chair let out some muffled noises, signaling that he was gagged. Ouma swore that he saw a bead of sweat trickling down Angie’s forehead, but it was impossible to tell in the dim lighting. She nodded to the hypnotized students, and they began their work. 

Every muscle in Ouma’s body  _ screamed _ for him to turn away - and so he did just that. He'd told himself a million times that in the face of danger he would stand and laugh, but the fact was that this was a much different situation than the one he'd imagined. 

It appeared that the world’s greatest liar could not lie to himself. 

The pounding of his own blood in his head nearly drowned out the visceral sounds that emanated from the other side of the room, and Ouma shut his eyes. For a while, he just stood there, willing the event to come to a close already. It felt as though he was in the void, though that probably wasn’t too far off from the reality of the situation. Time agonizingly ticked by.

A hand on his shoulder managed to draw him from his stupor, and he turned to meet Angie’s gaze. He almost stiffened when he saw that small flecks of blood spattered her face, but the girl seemed unperturbed. The brainwashed students were standing off to the side, staring at nothing in particular, but his attention wasn’t focused on them. 

Angie cocked her head to the side. “Hey, Kokichi? Are you alright?” Her eyes were filled with concern, though it was about as light and airy as every other facial expression she usually had. A smiley, unnatural kind of concern. Did Angie ever take anything seriously? 

He grinned. “Of course I’m fine! Ehhh, I’m not some kind of coward. What did you do with…” His eyes fell upon the back of the chair, now soaked with blood, the figure on it hopelessly mangled. Ouma barely had time to get a closer look at the (presumably dead) body before his stomach lurched irrevocably.

Not even a few minutes later, he found himself hunched over a nearby garbage can, emptying the contents of his stomach into it. Angie stood nearby, awkwardly stroking his hair. Neither of them spoke a single word to each other. On the other side of the room, the “student council” continued to cast their dead-eyed stares at nowhere in particular.

The silence was almost worse than the gory noises, Ouma thought as he stared down into the garbage can. Junko’s texted words echoed in his mind - that he reminded her of himself. Ouma was certain that he clearly wasn’t coming out of this situation the same way he entered it, but he hoped to high heaven that he didn’t come out like her.

Or worse. 

There came a lull in his visceral reaction to the still-unmoving body, and Angie took the opportunity to pipe up. “How do you think the others are doing?” she asked curiously. “Not even kamisama seems to know that…” 

“I don’t know. Hopefully better than this,” was his only response.

If they were lucky, none of them would have been corrupted by Junko yet. But he could only pray.

 

* * *

 

Hanging out in dark, off-limits buildings seemed to be becoming a trend as of late, sort of like how members of street gangs hang around in alleyways. But sneaking into the  _ new _ Main Course building was a move that most Reserve Course students were not willing to attempt. There were some important things in there, but not just any cowardly kid was willing to walk into there in order to use - or destroy - them. It would have to be someone with guts, someone reckless, someone with no fear.

Someone completely  _ unlike _ Shuichi Saihara, whose focus was currently trained on trying to close a door as quietly as he possibly could. Eyes trained on the doorknob, he focused all of his concentration on trying to shut it, the creaky door currently being a worse enemy for him than Junko Enoshima. 

But he began to realize that since he was presumably the only one in the building, he probably didn’t even have to close the door behind him as he walked about. Saihara was generally a polite person, but in times like these, courtesy was not something that he should be concerned with. Doing what Junko said so that his classmates wouldn’t get  _ killed _ took priority, and even he knew that. 

Clenching his teeth, he entered the darkened classroom. Classes in the main course had long since let out, and a glance at the clock told him that it was far too late for anyone to be interested in hanging around here. His eyes then landed on a shelf leaning against the far wall, flooded with papers - presumably, where the Main Course students kept their talent-related work. Some of the areas (such as the ones labelled “Biker Gang Leader” and “Baseball Player”) were completely empty, while others (“Programmer”, “Author”) were almost full to bursting. With a sigh, Saihara walked over to the shelf and began to peruse through the papers in a particular section.

More specifically, the one marked “Detective”. 

His fingers traced the edges of various file folders, neatly kept but sparingly labeled. With a sigh, he realized that he would have to look through the files individually to find what he was looking for. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, so he sat down with a couple of folders and got to work.

Most of the cases appeared to be fairly mundane (at least, for a normal detective - for someone to solve these cases at a high school age was extraordinary in its own right), he noted as he shifted the papers around. The experience took him back to before he attended Hope’s Peak, to when he would often fumble about in the detective agency his uncle worked in. The man would quite often allow him to look over the files of past archived cases. As a child, it was the most exciting thing in the world to him, despite its seemingly mundane nature. 

But that was then, and this was now. Saihara quickly shook off the memory and returned to sorting through the seemingly-endless files. Again, this Super High School Level Detective must have been incredibly skilled to be involved in this many cases. The pit in his stomach deepened as he thought back to his own perceived ineptitude (which hadn’t been particularly helped by the fact that he had received a second consideration while the Main Course spot had been given to this person), but he moved along. Now wasn’t the time to be wallowing in self-pity.

His search came to a stop once he pulled out a file that displayed an image that he recognized. Saihara’s eyes widened at the sight of the room he’d seen in Junko’s video - only now, the corpses of the dead Student Council members were all but removed. Only a massive splatter of blood remained on the floor. Quickly scanning the page for any useful information that he could soak up, Saihara noted that the files still mentioned that the perpetrator remained at large, and that most information about the circumstances of the massacre was vague at best. There was one survivor who had been taken into intensive care, but the file offered no new information.

It was clear what he was supposed to do with the offending document, as vague as it was. Anything could be a danger to her cause, Junko had said (though her original phrase had been more peppered with slang and “like”s than Saihara’s interpretation of it). 

He clutched the paper in his hands so hard that the edges crinkled, and his eyes landed upon the paper shredder next to the teacher’s desk. Detectives at his uncle’s agency would often use one to dispose of confidential files - but it was still too late, and the noise of the shredder would cause a ruckus that could risk him getting caught.

So that was how Saihara found himself standing over a garbage can, poking the paper with a lighter as its flame ate away the pertinent information. He couldn’t help but close his eyes in shame as he destroyed another detective’s work, just because a higher power had forced him to. 

“You’re going to be a great detective someday. I know it,” his uncle had said to him once, ruffling his hair (and his hat along with it). The sentiment had made Saihara blush in embarrassment, but it had instilled a warm feeling in him.

That feeling was entirely gone now.

 

* * *

 

The bodyguard trio had been overcome by a strange feeling as they followed Ryoko Otonashi through her many escapades. While Toujou’s expression was still stern, the normal smiles had all but faded from Gonta and Tenko’s faces. The three were practically drenched in sweat, though one could almost mistake it for rain from the metaphorical cloud hanging over their heads. 

Still, Ryoko did not seem to have noticed them through this whole time. Through some miracle - or a punishment from some awful god, it was impossible to tell which - the girl had remained oblivious to their increasingly-obvious presence. There had even been a point where Gonta had tripped over a branch and fallen with a massive  _ thud _ next to the girl, but after they met eyes, she merely shrugged and continued on her way. Not even a minute later, it seemed as though the three of them were all but forgotten.

What a strange girl.

The murder from the rooftop still fresh in their minds, it haunted them as they continued to follow Ryoko - but the memory all but faded when they saw where she was headed. Sitting on the horizon in its gaunt silhouette was the old Main Course building, which had been abandoned long ago. It loomed over the group, but Ryoko did not seem to mind.

“H-hang on!” Tenko gasped, nearly doubling over from the day’s excessive stress. All she really wanted was to take a nap and maybe cry into a pillow at this point. She turned her wide eyes to the building. “T-Tenko is  _ not _ going in there! Those kinds of strange places are… are practically breeding grounds for nasty boys!” The excuse had been quickly fabricated, but it functioned well enough. Even so, the other two knew that she was trying to conceal her underlying dread. Gonta nodded in response, but the gesture was  _ too _ vigorous. Clearly, none of them wanted to be there. Even Toujou silently pursed her lips.

“Erm… the only thing stopping Gonta from leaving is his own moral code,” the entomologist muttered, fixing his glasses from where they sat askew on his face. The self-proclaimed gentleman was haggard at best. For a moment, the three of them stood there, not saying anything to one another. Simply… staring. 

Toujou pulled out her cell phone. As the others watched, she positioned one gloved finger over the screen. It hovered there for a time, shaking as she seemingly deliberated whether or not to send the text that would free them from this job. 

Then again, their entire class was at stake.

Her arm fell limply to her side, and she grit her teeth. “I…” she murmured. “I can’t do it. We have to, or else…” Toujou didn’t finish the sentence, but her meaning was clear. 

The three, united in their unwillingness and their fear, began to follow Ryoko into the old building.

One step at a time.

 

“Dank” was the best word to describe the building - worn down from years of unuse, but a mere shadow of the new building that loomed nearby. All of the lights had been turned off, as well as the heat - so Tenko found herself clutching her arms to her chest as the creeping cold attempted to penetrate her body. Small puddles from unplugged leaks littered the floor, creating halfhearted splashes when they were stepped in. Squinting, Tenko tried to locate Ryoko further down the hall.

And then Gonta let out a yelp.

She whirled around to see that Toujou was on the offensive and that Gonta had frozen in place. Upon closer inspection, though, he seemed to know as much about why exactly he had screamed as they did. 

“Gokuhara-san. What was…” Toujou began.

Gonta shook his head fervently. “Gonta doesn’t know! He was walking along, and all of a sudden something poked him. What could possibly-”

“Hey, onii-san. I asked you a question.”

Everyone’s eyes landed upon a new person that none of them had seen before. Then again, he was so plain-faced that even if they  _ had _ , they probably wouldn’t remember the encounter. Something about the guy made Tenko’s fists curl, but no one made a move to speak.

The boy coughed. “That’s more like it. So, like… what are a coupla people like you doing hanging around the old building?”

“Tenko wouldn’t tell a man like you that!” Tenko blurted, to the horror of her fellow classmates. “W-what do you know about hanging around… abandoned buildings?!”

This prompted him to raise an eyebrow. “Sounds like something a bunch of goths would do, and none of you goobers strike me as that kind of person. Except maybe you, onee-chan with the knockers,” A dark shadow crossed over Toujou’s face as he pointed at her, but she had nothing to say in response. “Anyway, I don’t care about that. I’m lookin’ for a girl named Ryoko Otonashi. You see her go in here?”

Surprisingly, the one who was able to salvage the situation was Gonta. “O-oh!” he gasped, nervously fixing his tie. “Gonta and his-  _ we _ are Otonashi-san’s friends, actually!”

“Mhmm…” the boy pondered this for a moment, before nodding. “She’s never mentioned any of ya, but honestly? I’m sure she has a bunch of friends she doesn’t even remember.” Tenko somehow felt a shred of relief, despite the dire straits they were in. “Name’s Yuuto Kamishiro, but we don’t have time for introductions.” He gestured in the direction that Ryoko was walking. “I’m gonna go and catch up to her. Seeya!”

The boy ran off in her direction, leaving the others to stare after him. They very well  _ could _ leave, all of them knew that. But the loathsome pull of curiosity compelled Tenko, Gonta, and Toujou to follow the two of them. At the very least, Yuuto probably knew where he was going more than any of them did. 

Tenko fell back once she had reached a safe distance behind them, and the others followed suit. It was clear that the smaller boy sensed their presence, but he made no move to reveal them to Ryoko. Despite the fact that he was one of the nastiest men she had ever met, she supposed that they owed him that. 

From their position, they could faintly hear him speaking to Ryoko, about something he referred to as the “Worst Event in Hope’s Peak History”. Though Tenko was confused at first, it became clear that he was referring to the massacre that they had all been forced to sit through. It felt like it was ages ago in her mind, but hearing Yuuto actually talk about it forced the memories to bubble up to the surface. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Toujou’s normally-firm hands tremble whenever Yuuto mentioned Junko’s name. But if he noticed, he made no move to indicate it. 

At the end of the hall, oddly enough, was an elevator. Yuuto and Ryoko walked into it without much hesitation. Though Gonta stopped short and Tenko herself almost did the same, Yuuto gave them a furtive glance and motioned for them and Toujou to follow. 

They crowded into the elevator. Tenko continued to marvel at the fact that Ryoko remained completely oblivious to their presence, but that was likely due to the fact that Yuuto had struck up another hushed conversation with her almost immediately upon their entrance. She stared at Gonta, who stared at Toujou, who stared back at her. None of them had a single word to say.

The elevator began its creaking, labored descent into the unknown.

 

Tenko snapped out of her daze just as a loud  _ clunk _ sounded throughout the elevator, signalling that it had reached its destination. The doors straggled open, and Ryoko staggered out as the three bodyguards watched. Kamishiro followed suit quickly afterwards. The way Tenko saw it, they had two options: they could either let the elevator take them back up, or they could enter the room. Every muscle in her body and ounce of sense in her mind  _ screamed _ at her to take the first option, but the sense of dread that permeated her like a cold fog told her that whatever was going to happen in that room regardless of whether she was there or not.

She might as well be there to see it. 

“Hey. Come on,” her voice was oddly quiet as she crossed the elevator’s threshold. Taking a look back at Gonta and Toujou, she could see the confusion on their faces plain as day. Unfortunately, Tenko had no explanation to offer other than a tense shrug and a gesture of the hand, but it was enough. They shuffled out together. 

It was strange for an underground room - the ceiling infinitely stretched out, yet the circular walls created a more claustrophobic feeling. Decorations were sparse at best - a plain dresser, a neatly made bed, and strangely, a toilet in one corner. Tenko vaguely heard Yuuto remark (to no one in particular) that the room was “nice”, but it gave her the impression of a trick room from a video game or a  _ Saw _ trap more so than a nice, livable room. 

Livable. Had someone been  _ living _ down here?

Ryoko and Yuuto began to do their own thing, so she turned to her classmates. Gonta was practically shaking with worry, his expression was so nervous. Toujou appeared calm, but it was a sort of steely variation that betrayed the fact that she likely felt the same. 

Surprisingly, she was the first one to speak. “This…” she struggled to find the words, the contrast against her typically matter-of-fact speech plainly stark. “This is something we have to do, is it not? Duty before self, as I say, and…” but it seemed as though Toujou was trying to convince herself of this rather than the others. 

“Toujou-san!” Tenko made herself say. “This isn’t duty. It’s a horrible, horrible thing that we’re being forced to do so that we don’t  _ die _ ! It’s an ulti… uh, an ulta…”

“An ultimatum. And Gonta doesn’t like it either.” The larger boy stated once again, his eyes wide. “Protecting girls is chivalrous, but this is - this is just plain ungentlemanly. What kind of people...”

The maid hugged her arms to her chest in uncertainty. “I do not know,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I do not-”

Her statement was interrupted by a distinct, shuddering  _ crack _ that snuffed out the miniscule spark of camaraderie between them. All was quiet, so much so that one could almost hear the individual atoms that made up the furniture knocking against each other. The three of them slowly turned to witness the body of Yuuto Kamishiro falling to the floor, his neck twisted at an unseemly angle. Ryoko’s face was shadowed, continuing to not acknowledge any of them. 

For a moment, nothing moved. Then, after a brief period of frantically glancing around in an attempt to look for somewhere to hide, Gonta somehow managed to dive under the only available area: the bed. Normally, this would be hilarious, but the instinct to hide somewhere,  _ anywhere _ was strong in Tenko as well. So she followed suit. Toujou stood frozen in place for a few agonizing seconds, but a yank on her ankle from Tenko quickly convinced her to join them in their newfound refuge.

It was the kind of image that would have been very funny had they not just witnessed yet another person being murdered in cold blood. 

The three of them huddled underneath the bed in a kind of stunned silence. The image of Yuuto’s body was still fresh in their minds, and it didn’t exactly help that his cadaver sat only a few feet away from their current position. Tenko’s glance fell upon the elevator before moving back to Ryoko, who appeared to be trembling. They just needed an opening for her to go back up, and then they could escape. And all of this could be over! Did Ryoko even  _ need _ protecting? She had just snapped someone’s  _ neck _ ! 

Moments blended together into what seemed like hours, and yet Ryoko still stood stock-still. Tenko could hear her shaky, beleaguered breaths in between the sound of blood rushing through her own head. 

Suddenly, the elevator dinged. 

Tenko could barely tell what was going on, but she distinctly heard the rumbling of the elevator doors as they grinded open (when had the elevator gone up?). A pair of worn sandals entered her field of vision, and she heard a male voice speaking. She couldn’t quite make out what it was saying, but it was at the very least a welcome diversion from the agonizing silence. 

Gonta clearly didn’t share her impressions. His eyes widened, and he managed to choke out an “Uh-” before being shushed by the other girls. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Tenko swore that she saw Junko’s stiletto boots - though she knew that it was really Mukuro, the effect was still distinctly unsettling. How had she gotten in there, anyway? 

Toujou turned to Tenko and Gonta for a brief moment, confusion evident on her face. “Do either of you perchance know what exactly is… happening?” she whispered.

Tenko shrugged - at least, she made a motion as close as she could get to shrugging, considering the fact that she was squished under a bed. “Tenko doesn’t quite know,” she responded. Suddenly, an idea crossed her mind. “Tenko’s going to go see.”

“Chabashira-san-”

Despite Toujou’s stern warning, Tenko poked her head out from under the bed’s steel frame. 

Aikido is a practice that requires expert timing - most martial arts are. To know when one’s opponent is going to strike or is at their weakest point is a powerful thing. Timing is key in all of this.

So it made sense that when Tenko went to go see what was going on, it would have to be at the exact moment that the person who had just entered the room - a tired-looking, disheveled boy - had his hands wrapped around Ryoko’s neck and was wringing it like a towel.

Why did her timing have to be immaculate?

And why did it always have to be boys?

Stifling a gasp, Tenko ducked back under the bed and was greeted by the incredibly concerned expressions of her other two classmates. After attempting to explain what she had just seen - though it was more mindless babbling than a composed explanation - she just jabbed her finger in the direction where she had been looking. “Out there,” she gasped. “Otonashi-san- she’s…”

Gonta and Toujou looked in the indicated direction, only to almost immediately retreat back under the bed. The former’s eyes were still wide with fear. “W-we should- we should save her, shouldn’t we?!”

“No,” Toujou hugged her arms to her chest, the single word possessing more impact than Tenko would have thought. Her normally self-assured expression was gone, replaced by terror. “This is… this is no longer a duty. This is something we cannot control.” As she pressed her gloved hands to her face, Tenko knew that no reassuring shoulder pat or inspiring speech could help any of them in that moment. 

The only thing left to do was to watch the action unfold, and watch they did. 

And somehow, the struggle ended with the seemingly weak, oblivious girl who they had been watching over plunging a knife into the boy’s side, causing him to fall to the floor.

Somehow, not dead.

Though she didn’t know the boy, she felt a pang of dread as she looked on. He was begging, practically pleading - and then, he was gone. Just like that, all the life was gone from his eyes.

Something dangerous had snapped within that girl, and it made Tenko wonder why they had even needed to guard her in the first place. Horrified, she and the others looked on as she smashed the cadaver of the boy to near-unrecognition with her foot, her laughter sounding more and more familiar by the second. 

Like the laughter of Junko Enoshima.

It was at this point when Gonta nearly began to sob out of sheer terror, and neither of the girls stopped him. Though the girl still did not seem to see any of them, in that moment Tenko’s heart was racing faster than it ever had in her life, so fast that she thought she might have a heart attack and die. And even that would be a mercy. 

Why couldn’t they have been assigned to do… literally anything else? Surely, whatever the others were doing was  _ nothing _ compared to this. 

In that moment, Tenko knew only one truth: if she had known that her time at Hope’s Peak was going to be spent watching people get murdered for the sake of a cause she didn’t even believed in, she would have burned her second considerations letter to ashes the moment it reached her. 

 

* * *

 

The file’s interface was simple and nearly primitive, designed by someone who did not particularly know their way around a computer. All it was missing was tacky Word Art and comic sans text, and it would bear a strong resemblance to something that Amami could believe that an old faculty member would make.

But as tacky as the text from the files looked, its appearance was not the problem. If anything, it was the best part of it. 

“I’m going to need you to punch me in the face, so that I know I’m not having some bizarre nightmare right now,” Amami murmured, incredulous. 

“I’m not doing that,” Shinguuji replied.

The list of files detailed within the folder seemed innocuous at first glance - each one’s name was four characters, with the exception of a text document at the top labeled “mission statement” and one at the bottom labeled “extra notes”. Arranged in alphabetical order, the files ranged from “ak_k” to “yu_h”. 

To an outsider accessing the files, the letters would have seemed arbitrary. But Amami and Shinguuji had realized what they were with an alarming clarity. “am_r”, “sa_s”, “yo_a”... 

“These are… our names, aren't they?” He found himself saying, as if trying to confirm that he wasn't in some odd fever dream. “Shorthand, but still,” 

“I… do not like this,” Shinguuji adjusted his mask. “‘Candidates’, it was called… candidates for what, exactly?”

The question sent a shiver rattling its way down Amami’s spine like a rickety cart hurtling through a mine shaft. Biting his lip to stop the strange thoughts running through his mind from spilling out, he began to hesitantly move the cursor towards the “mission statement” file. “Guess we’ll be finding out soon, huh.” 

Shinguuji cast his eyes downward to the floor in silence. 

With a click, the file sprung to life. The only image in this one was a painting of an old, balding man labeled  _ Izuru Kamukura _ \- Amami assumed that this was the school’s founder, and not the sordid test subject from the other folder. The man’s unfortunate hairstyle would turn out to be the least scary thing on the page. 

Shinguuji looked like he was trying to melt the floor with his eyes, so the onus of reading fell once again on Amami. With a sigh, he began. 

“The Kamukura Project has been a work in progress for quite a while, the process having only been certified ready for testing recently. We believe that there is untapped potential contained within the science of transplanting talent, and do not want this technology to go to waste. However, we understand that testing is necessary before introducing this into the world. As such, this is our procedure.

“We intend to have subject 1.0 be a completely ordinary Reserve Course student, in order to test the limits of the project’s technology. However, more remains to be seen - what would happen if talent was transplanted into a person who already possessed talent?”

Amami’s chest began to be overtaken by a creeping feeling, not helped by the fact that Shinguuji had begun to read the file behind his back and kept nervously drumming his spindly fingers against his shoulder. He heard the anthropologist exhale a faint “ _ What? _ ”, but it barely registered as he continued to read. 

“Clearly, we cannot remove any talented students from the Main Course. It would cause media outcry and might disrupt the project before it could come to fruition. As a result, we've decided to reopen the second considerations program in order to recruit special subjects - ones whose talents are on par with those of the Main Course, but who possess traits that do not represent Hope’s Peak as a whole positively. In addition, all of these potential subjects possess fairly diverse skillsets, body types, and personalities that may have interesting effects on the testing procedure. Second year may be a good time to begin soliciting these students, as 1.0 should be completed by that time.

“We at Hope’s Peak Academy…” Amami hesitated, sweat trickling down his face. Shinguuji’s hand was clammy on his shoulder, the bandages becoming almost damp. “We at Hope’s Peak Academy strive to see this project to its conclusion, for the establishment of hope in society.” 

“I… reiterate my point from earlier,” Shinguuji wheezed, finally taking his hand off of Amami’s shoulder. He hugged his arms tight to his chest like he might lose his balance if he didn't. “What the  _ hell _ ?”

Amami himself was at a complete and total loss for words, and he found himself staring at the keyboard, dumbfounded. His memories of the past year or so at Hope’s Peak had always been good, despite the insane workload. But now they all seemed sour. All of the friends he had made, the experiences he’d had - were they really just for the sake of advancing this inhumane project? 

“I'm going to… look at the rest of these,” he murmured, exiting the mission statement and starting to peruse each individual file. “If we find anything important, we can…” Amami trailed off, not exactly sure what he was planning to do with any of this information. 

Shinguuji nodded. Out of the corner of his eye Amami saw him turn his back to him, lower his mask slightly, and let out a wheezing cough that made it seem like something was trying to escape his throat. Before he could turn around, though, he'd put the mask back on. His normally-placid face was nearly blue with anxiety. 

Still, Amami persevered. Each file contained a wealth of information on each of his classmates - photographs, statistics, achievements, and odd facts that had been seemingly kept secret from the rest of the class. Hoshi’s juvie records, locals’ accounts of seeing Gonta mucking about in the woods, a history of Yumeno’s controversial claim to the Magic Castle title, Kaede's extensive record of piano concerts… the list went on and on. Learning about his classmates this way did not intrigue him, though. It just filled him with dread, knowing that they were all picked to be  _ experimented _ on. 

There was one file in particular that made him stop and put a hand to his chin. 

“Harukawa-san’s an assassin?”

“That's not the most shocking thing in the world. I believe we have more pertinent matters to focus on.”

“Now that you mention it… yeah, I think I could have guessed that.” 

Eventually, all of the files had been read. All that remained was the one marked “extra notes”. A wave of hesitation crashed over Amami - what awaited in this file was likely not good in the least. 

But he still clicked it. 

“...A list?” Shinguuji questioned, squinting his already-squinty eyes at the computer’s screen. There were notes in there, all right, but they seemed to be organized according to 1R class member - and not in their seating order, either. 

Amami shook his head. “Seems more like a ranking.”

Gonta’s name was at the top, followed by a brief description. 

_ Due to the fact that subject was removed from the wilderness prior to arriving at Hope’s Peak, his birth family is unaware of his whereabouts. Could easily be tested upon without conflict. His strength and supposed animal communing abilities could add an interesting element to the end product as well. _

Amami covered his mouth with his hand. What in the world?

Shirogane was ranked second - he assumed it was the first time she hadn't been sorted in the middle of a middling crowd in her life. Unfortunately, he soon saw why. 

_ Subject possesses no special features aside from her talent, but her lack of presence makes her a prominent testing candidate. Could function as a blank slate, similar to 1.0, but with enhanced talent capabilities.  _

“B-by god, this is truly inhumane,” Shinguuji muttered to himself, his eyes closed. “Just what kind of people are-”

“Shinguuji-kun.”

“...Yes?”

“Uh, don't look now, but…” Amami blinked, feeling like he hadn't slept in ages. “You're next on the list.”

“Excuse me?”

The anthropologist nearly elbowed Amami out of the way so that he could see the screen. But there it was, plain and simple. 

_ Subject was originally considered to have average testing potential, but the death of a loved one has put him into a volatile state. This would make for easy removal from society - if presented as a social experiment, subject may even be compliant. _

Amami winced. 

“They…” for once, Shinguuji was at a complete and total loss for words. His normal long-windedness had been snuffed out, his passion drained. All he could do was stare. “I… nee-san…” 

Amami clenched his fists in a gargantuan effort to keep them from shaking. Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes. “No one can know about this. Do you know what this could  _ do  _ to people if it got out?”

But Shinguuji wasn't listening. He had already begun fumbling with the mouse, and with the click of a button, had begun to print out a copy of all the files in the folder.

“Shinguuji-kun, you jackass-”

But Shinguuji’s eyes were wide with sheer terror, and he locked his stare onto Amami’s own eyes. “People deserve to know, do they not? If we do not tell the others, they may try to carry out these… procedures.”

“Yes, but-” Amami started, but Shinguuji wasn't finished. 

“Keeping these documents hidden would seem to be the goal of the faculty. Do you mean to defend them?” He had broken out into a cold sweat at this point. “What if Gonta-kun vanished, then Shirogane-san, and then  _ me _ . How do you believe the others would react, hm?

“I do not know your intentions. But I am not letting myself be used as a guinea pig for inhumane procedures such as this one… whether they're for the advancement of human beauty or not. And I am not allowing my… friends to partake in such a thing, either.”

Shoulders sagging, Amami shook his head. “You're… you're right,” he mumbled, nervously fiddling with one of the rings that encircled his fingers. 

For a while, there was no sound save for the constant whir of the printer. But even that halted, leaving nothing but an eerie silence behind. Clearly, there was nothing more that could be said that  _ wouldn't  _ cause either of them to have an absolute meltdown. 

The clock on the wall indicated that it was far later than either of them had intended to stay, but the wealth of information they had found had made it seem like an even longer period of time. Amami powered down the computer, and with a glance at Shinguuji, the two left the room together. 

Every time Amami turned a corner, he swore he could see the dead, scarlet eyes of the test subject from the first subject looking at him. 

Waiting. 

 

* * *

 

Yumeno had long since emptied her bag of cheese snacks, and she allowed herself a glance down at her wristwatch. As usual, she’d lost track of time - several hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. She supposed that time passed quickly when you spent it with friends. She then rescinded that thought, because it seemed super cheesy and more befitting of a sentimental protagonist than a powerful mage such as herself. Harukawa was beginning to look annoyed, she noticed, but she ignored it because honestly when was she  _ not _ annoyed?

The smart thing to do would be to pack up for the day, but it was in a magician’s nature to want to go out with a bang. To do an encore. “It’s gettin’ late…” the words came out on a yawn, “So I’m just gonna do one last reading. If that’s okay.”

Momota still looked like he feared that her doing tarot would summon some freaky occult stuff, but Hoshi seemed amused. “The floor is yours,” he grumbled, nodding towards the deck of cards she still held in her hand. Taking that as her cue, Yumeno once again shuffled and cut it, laying out three cards for all to see. One by one, she flipped them over.

“The wheel of fortune,” she announced, “The fool, and the…” her attempt at a dramatic tone suddenly faltered as she turned over the last card: the tower. 

Momota just looked confused. “Somethin’ wrong, Yumeno?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. The rest of the group seemed to share his sentiments. 

Yumeno shook her head, took the cards in her hand, and began cramming them back into their box. “Tarot is fake, actually,” she mumbled, a blush coming over her face. 

“You can't just end it like that,” Harukawa huffed. She crossed her arms over her chest in an expression of indignance. 

“Oh?” Hoshi said. “I thought you didn't care,” Harukawa muttered a series of incomprehensible statements aimed at no one in particular, so he turned to Yumeno. “Really, though. Ain't nothin’ wrong with keeping things to yourself.”

“It's not that, it…” she scrambled to find an excuse for the ominous reading and the fact that she was withholding its meaning from the others. “It just didn't work. Aaah… this is too much of a hassle.”

There was a moment of awkward silence in which no one was sure what to do with themselves. 

Then, Momota sighed and dusted off his pants. 

“It's gettin’ late… I gotta go,” he said, rising to his full height. “I have an astronomy club meeting tonight.”

“We have an astronomy club?” Harukawa seemed suspicious. 

“Nah, we don't,” Momota scratched the back of his neck. “But sometimes I go up on this hill with Gonta and Iidabashi late at night and we talk about shit. That's what the astronomy club is, I just wanted to make it sound cool.”

“Ah.”

“What the hell is Gonta even doing, anyway? Haven't seen him all day.” Momota shrugged, not seeming to know the answer. “Anyway, I gotta go. Later, Yumeno, Hoshi, Harumaki.”

“I said not to call me that…” Harukawa griped, but he was already walking off into the distance. 

Hoshi pushed his hat up on his forehead. “I was gonna go work out or somethin’... I’ll see y’all around,” and before Yumeno could say anything, he was gone. He’d mentioned his flashstepping techniques in class before, but it still weirded her out whenever he actually did it. 

“Huh… there he goes,” Yumeno mumbled pensively, but Harukawa was beginning to walk off as well. “Where are you going?” She called after her.

She turned her cold gaze to the magician, if only for a moment. “Nowhere. Don’t follow me, either.” and leaving Yumeno to ponder the vagueness of that statement, she departed. 

The box of cards still lay on Yumeno’s hand, and she weighed it as if she were judging its value. The air suddenly felt cold.

The cards she had pulled meant uncertainty, a foreboding air that even she could not judge. Ever since her class had been forced to work for Junko, she too had felt that air. 

But dwelling on that would get her nowhere. It was late, and Yumeno just wanted to sink into the comfort of her blankets and go to sleep. 

Shoving the deck into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, Himiko Yumeno walked towards the dorms and towards an uncertain future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe us, Angie may have seemed calm due to her experiences with blood, but she was screaming on the inside the whole time.  
> Also, we're pretty sure this is the most that Yuuto Kamishiro has appeared in any fic on this website, which is... weird considering that I honestly forgot he existed until it was time to plan this chapter out.  
> Anyway, WACK. A loooot of stuff happened here. Where the hell is this going? Hm. Hm hm hm hm.
> 
> sou (gonta) notes: it's my birthday two weeks from today! also kirby and i spent half the time we weren't writing this fic making oc aus and that's just peachy
> 
> kirby (astrostarry) notes: We didn't put into the chapter but imagine every bodyguard trio part with Bring Me Back to Life by Evanescence. Also play Persona 5
> 
> (If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping us a comment and/or kudos! we love getting feedback and hearing theories. Thank you!)


	11. This is the Way the World Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi.  
> really sorry for the lack of updates, we both got bombarded with schoolwork and I've been trying to work on a oneshot for a while (it'll probably reach 10000+ words and you can expect it soon). hopefully this makes up for our long absence.  
> ...hopefully.

After the excruciating time spent audio editing Junko’s video, Kaede believed that she would be done with the girl. She hadn’t reached out to her or anyone else in her class for a while - at least, as far as she could tell. In truth, she could still feel her manicured iron grip still holding some of her classmates in its grasp. No one ever voiced this. But it was evident in the way that Toujou kept fiddling with her gloved hands under her desk, and how Amami seemed more interested in looking out the window lately than in taking notes, and how Gonta always looked like he had gotten the worst sleep of his life. 

No one said anything about the things that Junko had assigned them to do. It was easy for Kaede to pretend that they had never happened, but she still sometimes heard the audio reverberating in her ears as she tried to study or play the piano. 

But life went on as usual. It always felt to her like every time something bad happened, life simply trudged along without flinching. It seemed like a pretty insensitive thing to do, but such was the way of things. When life does go on, however, it brings new problems. 

 

Her phone emitted a warbling  _ bzzt! _ noise that shook Kaede from her nap. Blinking awake, she realized that she had fallen asleep while studying - the notebook she had been using had engraved a spiral pattern on her face, and she poked at it with her finger to try and get it to return to normal. As she reached for the device clad in its pink-and-purple case, Kaede assumed that it was one of her classmates. Maybe Shirogane asking for notes that she had missed by spacing out in class, or Momota asking if she wanted to head down to the local shops this evening, or Ouma sending her more annoying, emoji-laden chain mail. She did hope it wasn’t the last one - it usually took up her whole screen and included the sweat drops emoji more than she thought a normal person would use.

But when she picked up her phone, she almost wished it were that. 

The number wasn’t one she’d added to her contacts, but she’d received texts from it before. One she’d never bothered to memorize, but just seeing it made her blood freeze like the saccharine syrup in an ice pouch. Hesitantly, she unlocked her phone and opened up the message. It appeared to have been sent to everyone in her class.

_ Heeey, Junko here! Thank you sososo much for all your hard work~ I’ve decided to throw a party for you guys to thank you! Come down to Room 5B in the Main Course building, mmkay? xoxo  _

The text was immediately suspicious. Kaede’s first instinct was to not go to the event that Junko promised entirely. But the memory of her sister, the girl with the guns, was enough to send that train of thought to a screeching halt. If she didn’t go, it was entirely possible that she would hunt her down and either force her to go or something much, much worse.

Not only that, there were definitely a few of her classmates who  _ would definitely _ show up, no matter how suspicious the invitation sounded. If they turned out to be in danger, the blame would be on her for not being there for them.

The party was more of a deadlock than a fun event. Still, that meant that she would go. 

Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, Kaede took a backwards glance at her dorm. Her notebook still rested on her desk, and the bed was neatly made.

What she didn’t know was that this would be the last time she saw the room.

 

* * *

 

It was strange to her that the Main Course building was so massive. It housed considerably fewer students than the Reserve Course, and yet its facilities were state-of-the-art. This was the thought running through Kaede’s mind as her footsteps reverberated around the building’s empty hallways. 

The ubiquitous Room 5B was easy to find due to the fact that a hushed chatter came from behind its door. Hesitantly, Kaede placed her hand around the knob and turned it. In response to the sound, the mumbled voices immediately stopped, and a cramped feeling gripped her shoulders. She opened the door as slowly as she could.

All of her classmates were gathered there - it appeared as though she had been the last one to arrive. As soon as they saw that it was her, the tension in the room eased considerably. Everyone seemed to have been expecting someone else. The fact that it was Kaede was a mere relief. 

She quickly inserted herself into the crowd, striking up an awkward conversation with Saihara about a novel that he had recommended to her several weeks ago. But her attention kept drifting to the rest of her class - was it just her, or was there something odd about the atmosphere in the room? Everyone seemed to have broken off into little groups, creating a strange distinction from the group discussions they typically had. 

Eventually, everyone’s conversations seemed to reach the end of their natural lifespans, and an odd quiet filled the room. No one seemed sure what to do with themselves: Angie had taken to doodling on the blackboard, but everyone else either stood around awkwardly or sat precariously on a desk. 

Junko, of course, had still not arrived. There was also nothing in the room that could pass as a “party”. Either she was late, or she had a very loose definition of the word. 

Kaede, being the leader type that she fancied she was, decided to take the initiative. “So,” she started, addressing the whole class. Fifteen heads swivelled in her direction, but she continued. “What has everyone been up to lately? It feels like it’s been awhile since we last all hung out together, huh.”

It was at this point she noticed that not everything was quite right - while some of her classmates looked relaxed, a few of them looked scared like she had never seen anyone be before. She figured that a simple conversation was the best way to get around to that. 

Momota scratched the back of his neck. “Harumaki keeps beatin’ me in card games, but she says she’s never played ‘em before this year… I don’t understand.” Curious, he turned to the pigtailed girl. “What’s the deal?”

Harukawa simply scowled. “The deal is that you have no tact. Also, stop calling me that.”

Iruma yawned. “I keep trying to get this hellhole of a school to fund my beautiful, genius inventions, but those troglodytes refuse. They’ve been bustin’ my balls for ages! Who do they think I am?”

“Erm, Iruma-san,” Tetsuya tugged at his collar nervously. “What kind of inventions have you been showing them, exactly?”

“The good ones!”

“So by that, you mean…” As if he’d come to a realization, he shook his head feverently. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Kaede sighed, trying to ignore the spit that flew from Iruma’s mouth as she laughed. So far, she hadn’t found out anything of interest aside from Momota’s ineptitude at cards and Iruma’s plans to build a sex toy empire. It was time to take a more direct approach.

“What about you, Shinguuji-kun?” Kaede prompted, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the masked boy. Shinguuji, for all his tendencies to launch into long anecdotes and explanations, had recently gone oddly silent. She figured that he would be the easiest one to talk to. 

She figured wrong. After giving her an odd, languid stare, he gently shook his head. “I've been doing some research, lately. That's all.” 

What he  _ didn't  _ know that she would notice was the way that his bandaged fingers gripped the strap on the bag he was holding on to for dear life, or how from behind him Amami began to say something and immediately cut himself off. 

But she clearly wasn't getting anywhere with him, so Kaede decided to switch tactics entirely. She scanned the room: Ouma was beginning to sweat, but he still had that (admittedly now rather forced) grin on his face, and she didn't really want to engage him very much anyway. Angie was still drawing on the board, covering it in an array of flowering chalk succulents. Toujou kept folding and unfolding her hands. 

Tenko was unoccupied. 

“Chabashira-san?” Kaede asked. It was only a few syllables, but the girl nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound of her voice. That was certainly concerning. “Is… is something wrong? I was just going to ask you if you-”

“Wh-wh-what? No, Tenko is fine!” Tenko stammered, looking obstinately like someone who was, indeed, not fine. Her pinwheel bow was rumpled in her hair, and her eyes were more bagged than Kaede would have expected from the active girl. “Tenko has been practicing her aikido and trying to get her chemistry grades up, th-that’s all!”

Yumeno opened a lazy eye from where she sat slumped over at one of the desks. “You  _ are _ bad at chemistry, Tenko,” she murmured, scratching her head. “But I haven't seen ya studying for it…” 

“E-eh?!” Tenko seemed taken aback by the sudden accusation. “Yumeno-san, I-”

“Huuuuhhh?? Is Tenko keeping secrets?” Angie appeared to have taken a break from her drawing, and was now swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet as she fixed her wide gaze on Tenko. “Y’know, the best thing to do is, like, confessing your sins to kamisama! It's  _ sooooo _ helpful, you should try it~!”

“Tenko hasn't… sinned, Yonaga,” Yumeno murmured in response. Tenko’s face went ghostly pale, but whatever she was planning to say died in her throat. 

“Yonaga-san,” Toujou began to speak softly, but she was cut off by an arm that was suddenly raised high in the air. Kaede turned her attention to the owner of the arm - Gonta, who hadn't said a word the entire time. His face was red as a tomato, and he looked as if he were going to explode. Toujou and Tenko both glanced at him, but as they started to say something in response, he began to speak. 

“Erm…” he took his glasses off and polished them nervously on the collar of his shirt before putting them back on. “A-Angie-san? Gonta has a confession.” 

“You don’t have to-” Amami started, but he was cut off by the cheerful artist bringing her hands together with a loud  _ clap _ . 

“Ohhh, yay! Kamisama will be, like, so totally glad about this, Gonta. Nyahahaha!” There was something about her attitude that was beginning to seem… forced to Kaede, but she kept her opinions to herself. “So! What does Gonta have to say?”

“Well… Gonta, uh…” with every passing second, the normally gentle giant looked like he was getting closer and closer to imploding. Everyone's attention turned to him, though some more reluctantly than others. “I…” seconds may have passed, or minutes, or maybe hours before he spit out what he was trying to say. 

“Gonta… er… Gontamayhavekilledaman.” 

As the statement sunk in, Gonta practically folded in on himself. Toujou immediately shot up, but the scraping sound her chair made as it rubbed against the floor was the only semblance of sound in the room… that, and the flicking of a lighter. 

The next person to speak was Hoshi, who had just lit a cigarette, and whose dinner-plate eyes were wider than Kaede thought possible. 

“You what.”

Almost immediately, the room erupted into chaos. Everyone started blurting out responses all at once, their shouts interconnecting until the noise was unintelligible to even Kaede’s trained musician ears. She did notice Saihara covering his own out of the corner of her eye. Gonta simply looked like he was about to cry. 

Angie clapped her hands together. “Wow, Angie really knows what Gonta was feeling now! It’s bad!”

Before anyone could continue to bombard Gonta with questions, Tenko shot up from her seat. “Wait!” she barked, ignoring the fact that Toujou’s face was reddening. “Gonta-san, it was an accident! You  _ know _ that!”

“H-hold on, you were there?” Shirogane whimpered. 

“Yeah, hold on,” balked Momota, glancing between the entomologist and the aikidoka. “Both of you… you guys…” 

Toujou’s fists tensed, and she finally spoke up. “You must understand that this was not of our own volition. It was under the will of Enoshima-san.”

It was if the temperature in the room had dropped at the mention of the name. In the recesses of her mind, Kaede began to hear the audio from the video again, playing over and over… but she disregarded it, for now. Judging by the look on everyone’s faces, the mere mention of Junko Enoshima brought back painful memories.

“You killed a guy and I was left out?” Hoshi deadpanned, unblinking. Harukawa gave him a sordid look.

“N-no, no, it, uh…” Gonta appeared to be stalling. But he gave up the flustered speech quickly, and his shoulders slumped. “It’s… it’s a long story.”

“We’ve nothing but time, assuming that Enoshima-san does not arrive,” Shinguuji noted. “So, speak,”

It was with a heavy heart that Gonta, Tenko, and Toujou relayed the events of their time spent in the employment of Junko to the rest of the class. They were correct about the anecdote being long - every time Kaede thought that Junko’s shit list could not lengthen, one of them added another detail onto the case against her. The one strange thing they kept bringing up was a girl by the name of Ryoko Otonashi - every time they mentioned her, Tetsuya and Iruma began to look like they were trying to communicate in morse code with their eyes. Shirogane merely stared, like a frightened deer who had just realized that she was about to be run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

When they finished, Gonta and Tenko looked like a great weight had left their shoulders - but that same weight had been distributed evenly to everyone else in the room. 

Kaede, sensing that the conversation would likely not continue from this point, took the reins. In spite of how uncomfortable the subject was, she needed to know more. “I got assigned something by Enoshima-san, too… everyone did, I think,” She looked down. “But my job was just editing something. I wasn’t expecting… well, I wasn’t expecting that she made everyone else…”

“Ohh, Akamatsu-chan!” Ouma spoke up for the first time. “You really have nooo idea what’s going on, do you?” his facial expression definitely fit his smug tone, and Kaede gulped. “You’ve been so busy with your  _ editing _ that you don’t even know what anyone else was doing, do you?”

“I…” Kaede had no snappy reaction. “N-no, I don’t. I don’t suppose that you’re going to tell me, Ouma-kun?”

He put a finger to his chin as a snakelike grin spread across his face. “Nope! And you’re never going to know, because I’m not going to tell you,” Everyone groaned, even the people who Kaede could tell did not want to know what was going on.

Angie halted her drawing on the blackboard to turn to the boy. “Huh? It's weird that Kokichi’s acting this way. He was crying after we tortured that steering committee guy.”

If Ouma’s paper-white face could get any paler, it would have in that moment. “H-hey!”

“Enoshima made you do  _ what _ ?” Momota demanded, a steady trickle of sweat falling from his forehead. He looked as frightened as Kaede felt - as malignant as Ouma seemed and as creepy as Angie was at times, she couldn't imagine them doing that. These were her friends, after all. 

As it turned out, she didn't need to imagine. Angie began to describe the whole incident in detail, while Ouma simply sat there with his usual smug look frozen on his face. He'd occasionally interrupt with a snide remark whenever Angie got too graphic. Kaede swallowed back a gasp when she heard Angie mention the prototype video - was Junko really putting that into effect so soon?

Iruma was the first to respond after a period of stifling silence, somehow managing to put everyone's feelings into three short words. “Dude? That's fucked.” 

Angie smiled. “Oh, Angie was screaming on the inside the whole time~!”

No one was sure how to respond to that, so the statement went unchecked.

Saihara adjusted the brim of his hat. “I, uh…” he mumbled without meeting anyone’s eyes. “Does… anyone else have intel on what Enoshima-san made them do? If w-we compile a case against her, maybe we could report her to someone…” 

Amami raised an eyebrow at that, but Kaede had little time to contemplate it before Shirogane launched into a tale of dressmaking and wigs for a girl who she later found did not even exist. 

By the time that everyone who had something to say was done saying it, the class had compiled a train of abuses on Junko Enoshima so long that it would likely stretch from one end of the campus to the other if written down on paper. The tense atmosphere in the room quickly turned from tense discomfort to outright anger. And still, Junko had not shown up.

Momota’s face had gone white. “W-what the hell?” he stammered, trying (like the rest of them) to parse the scope of what he had just heard. “This is fucked up, man. Absolutely fucked up.”

“You don’t need to say it twice,” Harukawa muttered. It was still strange to Kaede how she remained so nonchalant in the face of something so horrifying.

“Well, maybe if I say it, it’ll seem less fucked up!”

“It’s n-not working!” Tenko yelled, causing Momota to flinch. 

Shirogane wrung her hands. “This is… this is just plainly awful… god, I’m so sorry! I never should have…” 

Toujou gave her an uncertain pat on the shoulder, but her expression was stern. “Nevertheless. I believe that the only thing to do is to report Enoshima-san to the authorities. This despair business… it cannot be allowed to continue. Other students cannot go through what we went through.”

“Yeah, maybe we gotta… go with hope, and stuff…” Yumeno didn’t sound too enthusiastic about the idea, and she wasn’t alone.

“I’m…” Tetsuya crossed his arms. “Can I be honest? I’m very tired of hearing about hope. Everyone always talks about it, but nothing has been done to actually provide it to people like us!”

A murmur of assent rippled through the room. “Ki- Iidabashi-kun is right,” Amami spoke up for the first time in a while. “But we can’t go to Hope’s Peak for help.”

“Ehh? What do you mean by that, you verdant-dicked prettyboy?” Iruma scowled, fixing her piercing blue eyes on him. “If you’re gonna say something, stop beating around the damn bush and say it!”   
He raised his hands slightly in a loose refusal. “Ah… it’s nothing. Forget about it.”

“Fucker!”

“I’m afraid it is  _ not _ nothing, Amami-kun,” Shinguuji began rummaging around in his bag, much to everyone’s confusion and Amami’s own horror.

“Shinguuji-kun, you’re not telling me that you-”

“Oh, I did. My apologies,” The expression on the masked boy’s face was completely unreadable as he pulled a stack of papers out of the bag. He gently set them down on a nearby desk, allowing everyone to ogle them for all that they were worth. “I believe that the phrase is ‘read it and weep’.” 

“You two…” Kaede began. “What is this?” 

Before Amami could state that it was nothing once again, Shinguuji bluntly said “We broke into a faculty building.” 

“Aww! And you didn't invite me?” Ouma pouted. 

“Ouma-kun, please! G-gonta thinks that this is important,” the entomologist stammered. Ouma gave him a curious look, but discontinued his joking statements. 

Shinguuji ran his hand over the stack of papers, fanning them out on the desk so that the others could see better. “And we found these. They’re… particularly interesting, shall we say.”

There was another long period of silence as everyone looked over the papers, and Kaede was shocked by what she saw. A file on every student in the class (most of which were quickly snatched away by the people who they were about), and an oddly short mission statement. She thought she recognized the word “Kamukura” from when Amami had brought it up so long ago, but nothing could have prepared her for the truth of the experiment’s purpose. 

She felt sick to her stomach.

Another point of interest was a strange ranking that featured notes on each student, assessing their fitness for the project. While she didn’t see her own spot on the list, the students she saw that were at the top were definitely  _ not _ taking the news well. Shirogane had put her hands to her face in an expression of shock, and tears were welling in Gonta’s eyes. 

“Let me get this straight. So we’re lab rats?” Hoshi seemed exceptionally appalled. 

“It would seem that way,” Shinguuji answered.

“And the reason we’re here actually IS because we’re talented. But it’s also to  _ experiment _ on us? For the sake of hope or whatever?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Hoshi grit his teeth. “God. I hate this.”

The murmuring in the room had reached a fever pitch, and everyone was talking over each other. Some were completely dismayed (Yumeno and Toujou were attempting to comfort Gonta), while others were incensed beyond relief (Momota had taken to pounding on the door just because he needed to find  _ some _ kind of outlet for his rage). Saihara looked like he was about to pass out from nerves, and Kaede noticed him opening a window just so that he could get some fresh air. Poor guy. 

Just as the rush of emotion was about to culminate in either the door being broken down or people starting to fight each other, something happened. Something that would normally be completely innocuous, but in this case, was nothing of the sort.

Everyone’s phones went off at once, filling the room with a brief cacophony of ringtones before giving way to complete and total silence. If someone had taken a freeze-frame of the room in the instant before this happened, it would have resembled how everyone looked immediately after the fact: practically frozen in place. Quickly, though, everyone assumed a more normal position. Their faces were wrought with confused anxiety.

Kaede was the first one to pull out her phone, and noted that she had a new text alert. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach, but everyone’s eyes were on her and it didn’t look like they were planning to follow suit. Gulping, Kaede unlocked her phone and opened her messaging app, where she was greeted by two new texts from the earlier unknown number. The one on the bottom was a video with no thumbnail, but the top one was actual text written in the same lilting style as before. Nearly shaking, Kaede started to read it aloud to everyone else.

“Um… ‘ _ Hey, all! I’m tooootes sorry that I didn’t show up. Something got in the way and I couldn’t be there. You know how it is~! _ ’”

“No, we don’t…” Yumeno mumbled, but Angie shushed her.

Kaede continued, skipping over the emojis that peppered Junko’s text. “ _ Anyway, I made something special for you all to thank you for all your help. It’s a present from me! Hope you enjoy it. Bye now!’ _ ” she paused, uncertain. “That’s all there is, and then there’s a video… seems like this one’s another group text.”

“Akamatsu-” Harukawa started, but it was too late. Against her better judgement, Kaede had already pressed the play button on the video. 

And just like that, the world slipped away.

 

* * *

 

First, there was darkness.

An endless space with no depth sat in front of Kaede, as if she were simply looking at a sheet of black paper. She stretched out her hands in front of her, noting that the pallor of her skin was clear as day - creating a stark contrast with her surroundings. She turned her head to the left, then to the right, but all she saw was that same empty void. 

But when Kaede’s attention turned to the ground below, she was greeted by the familiar tile floor of the classroom she was in before. Jerking her neck up proved that she  _ was _ indeed in that classroom, despite the earlier vast, endless darkness. But something was strange: there were no chalk drawings on the board, no papers on the desk, and not a single soul present. It was just her, alone in the Main Course room that she really had no business being in. 

The sky outside of the window to her left, she noticed, was a sanguine shade of red. 

Kaede took a step forward, but when her right foot touched the floor it was met with a quiet  _ snap _ that made her draw back. Lying at her feet was a pair of round glasses with thin wire frames, the lenses snapped by the impact of her footfall. Curious, she picked them up and examined them. They were definitely Gonta’s glasses, but why were they…?

They weren’t the only things on the floor, though. Sitting plainly in the middle of the classroom was a pile of reserve course shoes - plain black loafers, some more scuffed than others. They were in all different sizes, and they simply sat there benignly. But a few miscellaneous items of clothing that Kaede recognized were also among the pile - a checkered scarf, a pinwheel-shaped bow, a blue hairclip with gold trim - and a distinct feeling of dread settled in the deepest recesses of her mind.

The ends of her hair lifted slightly in the wind, and Kaede realized that all the windows in the classroom were open. 

A while ago, she had stumbled across a peculiar article while using a computer. It wasn’t about music, but about words that were unable to be translated into any language aside from their language of origin - odd phrases that described sensations and situations that everyone was familiar with, but did not know how to put into words. One of these was  _ l’appel du vide _ \- the call of the void, or the compulsion to do something dangerous despite the fact that one knows that it is dangerous. At the time, Kaede had shrugged it off. It wasn’t something that applied to her - just an interesting phrase to pull up in conversation if she really felt like it.

It was  _ l’appel du vide _ that caused her to walk over the window and look down.

There was another pile on the ground far below, but it was not one made of clothing. Yes, there was clothing in it, and Kaede wished with all her heart that that was all it was. But things could never be that easy. Limbs sprawled out in uncomfortable positions, joints bent the wrong way, hair entangled… it was a pile of corpses.

Very, very familiar corpses. 

Kaede’s hand flew to her mouth, and she forced herself to choke back the vomit she could feel coming up from below. No matter how many times she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, the corpses were all still there.

Waiting.

Kaede knew what she had to do.

Her entire body shaking, Kaede put one foot up on the windowsill, then two. She stared down below at the world, letting the sight of her dead friends wash over her one last time.

One foot forward, and one foot behind.

Kaede let herself fall, and fall, and fall-

 

* * *

 

“-Matsu-san? Akamatsu-san!? Akamatsu-san?! Oh, my god. Oh my god.”

Kaede fell until she didn’t, and felt herself being held extremely tightly by two very big arms that must have halted her descent. Everything around her was so loud that it felt like her head was about to explode, and her eyes flew open. 

She was met with the sight of her own legs kicking wildly in every direction possible, and a splash of cold water in her face. The room was in a state of disarray, and everyone seemed to be in motion - Shirogane and Tetsuya were fanning her face, and Tenko was on the defensive. Angie stood to the left of her, sheepishly holding a small (now-empty) bottle with a strange symbol on it. Iruma was sitting in the front of the room, rapidly going through everyone’s phones to delete what she presumed were Junko’s texts, and Momota was frantically fumbling with the door lock. 

Saihara kept pacing back and forth by the window, his face wet with tears. Kaede tried to reach towards him, then realized that she was still restrained. Gonta had wrapped his arms around her from behind at some point, though she wasn’t sure when. Looking behind her, Kaede noticed that his face was hot and damp, and that he was once again crying.

“G-gonta-kun…” she managed to choke out. “You’re… covering me with snot.”

Mumbling numerous apologies, Gonta dropped her onto the floor, leaving her open for Amami and Hoshi to run over to her. The expressions on their faces weren’t ones that anyone wants to see on their friends, and Kaede gulped. Ouma hurried over after.

“Oh my god. Akamatsu-chan, are you okay? What  _ was _ that?” Ouma asked. Though he looked like his normal self, she could see that his hands were shaking. 

“I… I don’t know, myself,” she admitted, rubbing her arms. Her fingers felt like stiff pieces of wood. “What- what happened?”

“You, uh,” Amami started, seeming unsure of how to put it. “After you clicked that thing on your phone, you started acting all strange.”

“You started screaming and trying to run towards the window,” Hoshi clarified. “Gokuhara managed to hold you back. Also, you almost stabbed Shinguuji with a pen.”

Shinguuji rubbed his arm.

The tennis player put his hands in his pants pockets, though Kaede could tell he was clenching and unclenching his fists. “It was the video, right. She sent it to all of us.”

“I…” Kaede held her hand in front of her face. “Oh, god.”

“So, even after all we did for ‘er… Enoshima was still goin’ to kill us,” Yumeno didn’t look tired for once. Instead, she looked angry. “We were just a buncha expendable greenies.”

“D-don’t we have to go to someone about this?” Shirogane mumbled, her plain face wet with sweat. 

They all knew what the answer was, but the one who vocalized it was the last person that any of them would have expected.

“Who… do we have to go to?” it was Saihara who had spoken up. His eyes were downcast, hidden by the brim of his hat. “What do we have? We’ve never had anything, you guys. All this school gave us was ‘hope’, and all Enoshima-san gave us was ‘despair’,” For once, he didn’t shrink under everyone’s gazes. “B-but hope and despair are nothing but excuses for these people to play god. We’ve been pawns ever since the beginning. A school f-founded on hope and despair… it’s something that’s doomed to fail.”

“Shuichi, what are you-” Momota started, but Saihara wasn’t finished.

“‘White despair’, ‘black hope’, whatever you want to call them… they don’t bring anything but pain and suffering. It’s nothing more than a game to these people. Who  _ cares _ about people like us when you can excuse what’s happening to them with some n-nonsense terminology..!” He looked up, and Momota and the others stepped back. “The elite just want to stay as the elite, and they can do w-whatever they want as long as it’s ‘for the sake of humanity’.”

In an unprecedented move, Saihara ripped his hat off and started heading towards the window. “I’m sick of this. Hope? Despair? All of it!” In one fluid motion, he threw his hat out the window before anyone could say anything. “It doesn’t mean anything! It’s all just-”

But before he could finish his sentence, something came hurtling past the window on its journey down to the ground below. Saihara faltered. “It’s all just… it’s…”

But then another something fell, and another, and another. The whole class rushed to the window and looked down - more specifically, over towards the Reserve Course buildings.

Kaede was experiencing some serious deja-vu. 

Reserve course students they didn’t know were dropping like flies, practically pouring out of the windows. Clamoring for the end of their lives. One by one, then two by one, then tens and maybe even hundreds. Like watching lemmings.

“She…” Harukawa muttered. “She sent it to all of them, too. We were never really anything more than disposable Reserve Course students to her, were we?”

“Kamisama has abandoned us!” Angie cried, dragging her hands down her face. 

Everyone watched the display of brutality that they had just narrowly escaped, at a complete loss for words. Not even Ouma had any witty remarks to contribute - if anything, he seemed to be taking this the worst of them all.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Iruma demanded. “We can’t kill Enhoeshima! What the  _ fuck _ are we going to do?!”

“I don’t know,” Amami mumbled. “I just don’t know.”

Kaede’s head was pounding beyond belief. Everyone was panicking. But just before the action could reach its height-

“I have an idea.”

At first, no one was sure who had spoken. But Kaede quickly identified the source of the voice. She turned towards Hoshi, who was staring out the window with a distant look on his face.

“What do you mean, you have an idea…?” Toujou questioned, pursing her lips.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” The tiniest hint of a smirk was on his face. “Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. To put an end to our involvement, to take us out of this endless cycle. That’s what you were talking about, right, Saihara?”

“Yeah,” Saihara’s voice was unusually level.

“Good.”

With everyone’s attention on him, Hoshi proceeded to explain his plan. It was hard to follow at times, but Kaede got the gist of it. She noticed how her classmates’ reactions varied, but in the end, they all seemed to come together. 

At the end, Hoshi folded his hands. “So. What do you think?”

“I d-don’t know about that…” Shirogane mumbled, looking like her heart was going at a million miles an hour. 

Momota raised his hand.

“Y’know what? Y’know fuckin’ what?” He grinned. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. But I’ll do it.”

“You’re a real-” Harukawa started.

“Oi, Harumaki. Enoshima wants our blood either way, doesn’t she? And dammit, space legend Kaito Momota isn’t gonna go out like some goddamn pussy!” He thumped his chest, triumphant in the face of this unspeakable tragedy. “So come on. Let’s do this like men.”

“Oh, for sure,” Yumeno agreed. “I guess this’ll be my grand finale, won’t it. That’s weird to say out loud.”

“So, we’re all in agreement?” Saihara asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fifteen voices echoed back with a resounding “Yes”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> young man, theres no need to feel down i said young man, eat a leaf off the ground
> 
> sou (gonta) notes: i got a job this summer!! i might be able to write a little less but i will still try to get chapters out on time. after the oneshot i'll likely be working exclusively on od until this project reaches its completion
> 
> kirby (astrostarry) notes: hey remember when y'all went into this thinking it was a slice of life HPA au. We do too
> 
> (If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider dropping us a comment and/or kudos! we love getting feedback and hearing theories. Thank you!)


	12. Author's Note

Hi everyone, Sou and Kirby here. It’s been a while. We would appreciate if you read this whole thing.

I don’t know if this fic got linked somewhere or promoted on some other social media, but it’s been getting a lot of attention recently. And while we do love getting comments, there’s something we’ve been needing to say, and we figure that you all ought to know instead of us keeping you hanging. 

We started writing  _ Ordinary Days _ a few weeks after the original V3 Japanese release, when both of our interests in the game were at its absolute peak. We did not expect it to get as much attention as it did - we had originally assumed that it would get brushed over the way most fics in the tag were. However, as we wrote more and more, we got more and more frequent readers. With that came the expectation that new chapters be released often, and that they be better and better than the ones before.

It was fun at first, but soon - around the time of the dr0-focused chapter, to be precise - OD became more of an obligation than a fun passion project. Our mental health suffered because of it, and chapters rarely turned out the way I had expected them to, resulting in even lower self esteem. I had originally planned to continue writing after my summer job was over, but things changed.

Long story short,  **consider OD hiatused** . We’re both working on things that we’re much happier about, and while we love receiving comments, it’s really not a good feeling when half of them are “when are you updating”.

If you’re still looking for writing from us, I’d like to direct your attention to the OC killing game/alternate cast fics that we’ve been writing for the past year or so - **[Dangan Ronpa: Dead on Arrival](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8276209/chapters/18959857)**  for me, and **[Dangan Ronpa: Drowning in Bittersweet Despair](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10510020/chapters/23193099)**  for Kirby. These are projects that mean a lot to the both of us, and it would mean the world to us if you could read and/or comment on them. 

That’s all for now. If we take OD off hiatus, we’ll delete this note. 

Thank you for reading,

Sou and Kirby


End file.
